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THE 


FRONTIER ANGEL 

A ROMANCE OF 

KENTUCKY RANGERS’ EIFE 


M 


BY 

EDWARD S. ELLIS 

AUTHOR OF “BILL BIDDON, TRAPPER,” “FAMOUS AMERICAN 
NAVAL COMMANDERS,” “GOLDEN ROCK,” ETC. 



NEW rORK 

HURST & COMPANY 


PUBLISHBBS 



Copyright, 1910, 

BY 

HURST & COMPANY. 


©CI,A271231 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTBR PAGB 

I. The Night before the Departure 9 

II. The Fate of the Flat-Boat 21 

III. The Two Scouts 46 

IV. The Faint Hope 59 

V. The Mysterious Warning 70 

VI. The Frontier Angel — The Shawnees 85 

VII. The Pursuit of Knowledge Under Difficulties 90 

VIII. A Man in Trouble..... 105 

IX. Peter Jenkins — A Cbuple of Speeches 127 

X. In which there is a Future Account of the Shawnees, 

the Speakers, and Jenkins 139 

XI. A Prize Gained and Lost 151 

XII. A Mingling of Fear, Doubt, and Hope 174 

XIII. Dark 189 

XIV. The Attack in the Wood 201 

XV. “All’s Well that Ends Well.” 225 


5 



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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Jim Peterson Questioning the Frontier Angel Frontispiece 

PAGE 

“ For God’s sake come and take me off, for they are after 


The Frontier Angel 37 

“ Onward they poured, shouting like madmen.” 43 

“ Whosomever is on that flat-boat ain’t living, that’s sartin.” 49 

“ ‘ O Lord, I’m shot,’ suddenly exclaimed Jenkins.” 79 

“ Before he could rise the Indians were upon him.” 109 

“ The Frontier Angel gazed calmly on him a moment.” 123 

” ‘ Mr. Thomas McGable, Esq., I believe,’ said Peterson with 

much gravity, without removing the aim of his rifle.”. . 157 

“ ‘ Quick ! water; she has fainted,’ exclaimed Mansfield.” 227 

“Then die — !” 241 


7 







THE FRONTIER ANGEL 


A ROMANCE OF 

KENTUCKY RANGERS’ LIFE. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE NIGHT BEFORE THE DEPARTURE. 

In the western part of Pennsylvania, near the 
commencement of the Ohio river, stands a small 
town, which, at the close of the last century, num- 
bered about thirty dwellings. Although properly a 
border settlement at the time mentioned, there were 
so many others beyond, that it was hardly regarded 
as being in the Mighty West.” The inhabitants 
were mostly farmers, possessed of large and beauti- 
ful farms, who commenced their labors in the morn- 
ing, and retired to rest in the evening, without much 
fear of the molestation of their savage brethren. 
True, a few years previous, the latter had committed 
murders and depredations even farther east than 
9 


lO 


THE FRONTIER AEGEL, 


this, and the settlers never allowed themselves fully 
to give way to an undue sense of security. But, 
unless a most unexpected triumph should crown the 
struggles of the Indians, there was little occasion for 
apprehension upon the part of the whites. 

The time on which we visit this village, is an even- 
ing in the spring, toward the close of the last 
century. The night is dark and cloudy, and the 
houses are invisible in the deep gloom ; but there are 
numerous twinkling lights in the different dwellings, 
which give it the appearance of a constellation set 
in the vast sky of darkness around. Broad fields of 
cleared land stretch for a long distance into the back- 
ground, while there are numerous other dwellings 
further eastward, toward Pittsburg, and many cabins 
further westward in Ohio and Virginia ; so that they 
are not without neighbors, and may properly be said 
still to be in the land of civilization. 

Near the western end of the village, stood a large 
frame house, in the lower story of which a bright 
light was burning. Within, and seated around a 
large, crackling fire, were four individuals engaged 
in conversation. The first was a pleasant, middle- 
aged man, rather portly and good-natured; the 
second was his wife, a few years younger, with an 
equally pleasant face, and a cheerful, musical voice. 
Upon the opposite side of the fire sat a young man. 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


II 


of a hardy, muscular frame, and a rather handsome 
appearance. Beside him was a maiden of eighteen 
or twenty years, who, without the least exaggeration 
on our part, might be pronounced beautiful. 

The first couple, as said, were man and wife. The 
second two intended to be at some future time — that 
is, they were lovers. 

The name of the parents was Abbot, and the 
maiden was Marian Abbot, their daughter. They 
were farmers, who, not having succeeded as well as 
they anticipated, had come to the determination to 
emigrate further west — in fact, into the very heart of 
Kentucky. A flat-boat was to start the next morn- 
ing down the river, in which a number of their 
neighbors were going, and in which they intended to 
send Marian ; but, the parents themselves were com- 
pelled to wait several months in order to bring their 
affairs to a settlement. Their resolution had been 
taken rather suddenly, but, as said, they were com- 
pelled to wait before fulfilling it. 

The flat-boat which was to start on the morrow, 
carried with it more men than Abbot expected would 
accompany him, and hence he deemed it much safer 
for Marian that she should go with it, and, in their 
western home, wait for his coming. 

The young man to whom we have referred, was 
Russel Mansfield, the only son of his parents, as was 


12 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


Marian the only daughter of hers. An attachment 
had existed between them for a year or two, and it 
was generally expected by the parents of both, that, 
as soon as they were in a proper condition, they 
would be united for life. The parents of Mansfield 
united with Abbot in their resolution, and it was their 
intention to depart at the same time with him. The 
same cstuses that led to his detention, produced 
theirs; and, as it was their wish that Russel should 
remain with and accompany them, he had consented. 
The young man disliked very much the idea of a 
‘separation, even for so short a period as a few 
months, from his beloved; but reflection and sober 
sense told him it was best that it should be so. 
Nearly a dozen well-armed and courageous men 
would protect her, while should her going be de- 
ferred until his, there would hardly be half that num- 
ber. Thus it was that the present turn of atfairs 
came about. 

“ If we have a storm at the commencement of our 
journey, it will be a bad omen, will it not, father? ” 
asked Marian with a smile. 

“ Tut, tut, dear, don’t speak of such foolish things. 
I would that your mother had such a body-guard 
when she follows you.” 

Oh, well, I meant nothing. I am sure I have 
no apprehension.” 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


13 


“ There is danger it is true,’^ remarked Mansfield, 
‘‘but it only threatens weakness and inexperience. 
Your party are strong, and they surely have had 
enough experience, to avoid all stratagems and 
decoys of their enemy/^ 

“ Yes, darling, don’t let such thoughts trouble 
you. There is One who is able to protect the weak- 
est in the hour of the greatest peril. Dangers will 
beset you on every hand, but there will be strong and 
friendly hearts around you, and a strong and 
friendly Heart overhead,” added the mother. 

“ There is but one thing that seriously troubles 
me,” remarked Abbot, gravely, “and that is the 
thought of that McGable. He has now been absent 
a year, and you remember, Marian, that he threatened 
vengeance against you when he left.” 

“Why, father, how can he injure me?” asked 
Marian in surprise ; “ who knows where he has 
gone ? ” 

“ I have been told that he was in the West,’* 
answered Abbot, quietly. 

“Well, and what of that? I am sure there is 
nothing in that, that need frighten us.” 

“ I have heard a darker story of him,” added the 
father in a lower tone, and glancing around as if he 
feared other ears might hear him. 

“ What was it ? ” asked Marian breathlessly. 


14 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


“ I have been told by those whose word could not 
be doubted, that he has turned renegade, and that his 
atrocities are equal to those of Girty, McGee, 
Proctor, and the other similar fiends.’’ 

“ Where does he generally commit his outrages ? ” 
asked Mansfield. 

“ I do not wish to alarm you, Marian, and I think 
there is no reason for your being alarmed ; but, as all 
the others who will accompany you, know the same 
thing, there can be no harm in warning you. At 
first, when he joined the British and Indians, he 
united with the parties who attacked the defenseless 
settlements and travelers; but he is cowardly, and 
there was too much danger in that. He is now a 
decoy along the Ohio river, and uses all the means 
in his power to entice the passing flat-boats to shore. 
The devil himself seems to aid his invention, for he 
has contrived such ingenious schemes that it is said 
he has outwitted some of the old backwoodsmen and 
hunters themselves.” 

“ What does he do with his prisoners ? ” 

He has never been known to give quarter to 
any one. All are consigned to the tomahawk or the 
stake, and the women perhaps to a still more dread- 
ful fate.” 

“ What induced him to turn traitor ? ” 

His own devilish disposition, I suppose. He has 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


15 

more than once given out that you will suffer, 
daughter, for your rejection of him; and next to you 
his especial enmity seems to be against Mansfield 
here/' 

“ I only ask Heaven that we two may meet on 
equal ground. He would never shame the race to 
which he belongs, again,” exclaimed our hero, 
indignantly. 

“ Perhaps you may, Russel — perhaps you may. 
Ah ! is that thunder ? ” 

All listened for a moment, and heard the distant 
booming of thunder, and the soughing of the wind 
through the trees that stood near the house. A 
storm was, indeed, gathering. Dark, tumultuous 
clouds were wheeling through the sky, and, as Mrs. 
Abbot looked out, she could discern by the aid of the 
fire blazing on the broad hearth, the tops of the trees 
swaying, and hear the night wind howling through 
and around the village. 

There is a storm gathering, but I am in hopes 
that it will pass off before morning,” she remarked, 
as she resumed her knitting and seat in the family 
rocking-chair. 

I guess it will not last long,” added Mansfield. 

Silence now reigned for a time in the house. 
Abbot sat in the corner slowly smoking his pipe, and 
gazing meditatively in the fire, watching the glowkig 


1 5 the frontier angel. 

embers as they fell apart, and conjuring up pictures 
and images in the coals. The mother continued 
knitting, her chair gently rocking, and giving out 
the same pleasant squeak that it had for years. 
Now and then she raised her eyes for a moment to 
glance at her husband or daughter, and then let them 
fall again to the work before her. A kitten was tum- 
bling over the floor, playing antics with her ball of 
yarn, or whirling around in a circle in an attempt 
to grasp the end of its tail. Failing in this, it stood 
a moment, as if in meditation, and then with a plunge, 
lit upon the back of a big maltese, quietly slumber- 
ing at the feet of Marian, and fixed its claws in his 
head, eyes, or any place that offered. The fellow 
bore it unflinchingly for a moment, until becoming 
unendurable, he grasped the mischievous creature 
by the head and holding it thus a moment, gave it 
several digging kicks that sent it into the middle 
of the floor, and then quietly resumed his half-sitting 
posture and shut his eyes again. 

Upon the other side of the fire was stretched Hero, 
the house-dog. He was of the hound species, and a 
noble fellow. As he lay, his long nose was dropped 
upon the hearth, between his two paws, and turned 
toward the fire. Probably he suspected mischief, for 
now and then he slowly raised the corner of one eye- 
lid, and glanced at the kitten, and then with a 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


17 

twitch and start, slightly shifted his position. Once 
or twice he flapped his long ears as if to give warn- 
ing that he was not yet asleep, and it would be 
dangerous to trifle with him. 

But the demon of mischief seemed to possess the 
young kitten. It walked straight up to him, laid its 
paw on his cold nose, and then scratched terribly. 
The dog in turn, raised one of his huge paws, and 
gave it a cuff that rolled it to the middle of the floor 
again. The kitten rose demurely and had recourse 
to the ball of yarn once more. Hero seeing this, 
dropped his head with a threatening look, and again 
slept. 

The old clock ticked loudly upon the mantel, and 
the wind roared down the chimney, and moaned 
around the house. Soon several drops of rain rattled 
against the window, a terrific crash of thunder burst 
overhead, and the storm came in all its fury. 

It lasted but a short time when a lull occurred. 
Just at this moment, the clock struck the hour of 
nine. Abbot knocked the ashes from his pipe, took 
down the old, wooden-covered Bible, and commenced 
reading a chapter. The mother laid aside her knit- 
ting, folded her hands upon her lap, and Mansfield 
and Marian paid a respectful attention. 

The chapter finished, all sank devoutly upon their 
knees, and the earnest monotone of Abbot ascended 


1 8 THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 

to the Protector of all. The desolate moaning of the 
tempest, added solemnity to the scene, and gave a 
beautiful appropriateness to the petition that was 
offered. 

As the parents arose, they bade Russel good night 
and retired. Our hero left alone with Marian, glided 
to her side, took her hand within his own and pulled 
her head over upon his bosom. 

“ What are you thinking of, Marian ? ” 

“ I was wondering at what father said.^’ 

What? about McGable?’’ 

‘‘ Yes.’’ 

“ Are you alarmed ? ” 

I feel some apprehension, I confess. You know* 
what a wicked man he is, and what terrible passions 
he has. I know more of him than you do, Russel.” 

“ I suppose you do,” he replied in a tone of slight 
reproof. 

“ What do you mean by that ? ” she asked, looking- 
up in his face with a reproachful expression in her 
mild blue eyes. 

Oh, nothing ! ” he laughed, kissing her glowing 
cheek. 

“ I mean I know more of him, Russel, because he 
has plagued me more with his presence than he has 
you. I dreaded him as I did a serpent, and when I, 
at last, told him I never wished to see him again, he 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


19 

left me with a curse. O Russel ! it was not me alone 
that he cursed, but you! He swore that he would 
kill you, for he knew you were the cause of it, and 
he said I should suifer, too.’’ 

“ You are not alarmed for me, Marian ? ” 

“ Yes, for I shall fear his power as long as he 
lives. I almost wish that father would remain here, 
but there is no persuading him, and I shall not 
falter at the last moment.” 

'' I cannot share your apprehension. You are 
going to a settlement which is well-guarded, and 
whose inhabitants are experienced in Indian war- 
fare. I can see no reason for fear.” 

I trust there is not, but if I ever get there I shall 
look anxiously for my parents and your arrival.” 

The two conversed longer upon the departure to- 
morrow, and discussed their plans for the future, 
until, when the storm had ceased, our hero took his 
departure. 

As perhaps the reader has surmised, the person 
referred to by the parents and the lovers, had once 
sought the hand of Marian. He had made his ap- 
pearance in the village a year or two previous, and 
gave his name as Tom McGable. Further than this, 
nothing was known. He professed to belong to the 
Eastern states, and had no relations or acquaintances 
in the village. He was a thin, nervous, sharp- 


20 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


featured man, with long Indian hair, dark, restless 
eyes, and a forbidding cast of countenance. He was 
a person of awful passions, and was dreaded by all 
who knew him. Marian turned from his advances 
with loathing, but he pertinaciously persisted until 
he was driven from her house. He left, vowing 
revenge ; and rumor shortly after reached the 
village that he had gone further west and united 
with the Indians against the whites. There was 
good reason for this report, as all knew that he was 
a man who would stop at nothing that might gratify 
his vindictive feelings. 


TEE FRONTIER ANQEL, 


21 


CHAPTER II. 

THE FATE OF THE FLAT-BOAT. 

As was predicted, the storm soon cleared away, 
and the morning dawned bright and beautiful. 
Birds were singing and flitting from limb to limb, 
the water sparkled upon the grass and twigs, and by 
the time it was fairly light, the whole village was 
astir. 

Down in the water, but safely moored to shore, 
rested a flat-boat, waiting for its living freight, 
before being loosened from its fastenings. As the 
commotion in the village increased, numbers com- 
menced wending their way toward the river, and in 
a short time nearly all stood upon the shore. The 
majority carried furniture and utensils with them, 
which, by passing over several planks, were deposited 
upon the boat. 

The farewells were now given. There were ten 
men, seven of whom had wives, besides Marian, so 
that the entire number was eisfhteen. With the ex- 
ception of the latter, these had embarked all of their 


22 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


wealth and possessions upon this perilous under- 
taking. 

Marian embraced her parents, received their last 
advice, and, as she passed over the plank, encoun- 
tered Mansfield. 

“ Good-by,’’ she said, gayly ; “ I shall soon expect 
you.” 

He took her hand, and, holding it a moment, 
said : 

“ I trust we shall be separated but a short time, 
dear Marian. I have lain awake all night thinking 
of this, and I believe there is danger — danger not 
only upon the river, but after you have reached your 
destination. You know to whom I refer — and oh ! 
let me beseech you to be careful of exposing your- 
self. God bless you! Good-by, and may we soon 
meet again.” 

He wrung her hand, as she passed over the boat ; 
the plank was drawn on board, the fastenings un- 
loosened, and the flat-boat commenced slowly mov- 
ing with the current. 

‘‘ Good luck to you ! ” called out Abbot. Look 
out for danger ; have your eyes open for decoys, and 
don’t, under any pretense, be induced to leave the 
center of the stream. If you are betrayed, you will 
have no one to blame but yourselves, for you are now 
warned.” 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


23 


The flat-boat slowly swept out into the stream, 
and, after a time, gaining the center of the current, 
moved forward with greater rapidity. Numbers yet 
stood upon the shore, waving their farewells ; but 
the boat soon rounded a bend, and they all disap- 
peared from view. 

Those on board now withdrew their eyes from the 
shore, and made preparations for the perilous journey 
before them. The flat-boat was a large, unwieldy 
affair, built like all similar ones, so as to float with 
the current alone. The sides were bullet-proof, and 
the shape of the thing was similar to a box. About 
three-fourths of the length were taken up as the 
cabin, which communicated with the other part by 
means of a small door. A long, sweeping oar was 
hung at each end, and balanced so as to dip into the 
water. There was a small space at either end of the 
boat which could be reached by passing through the 
cabin. The latter was divided into two compart- 
ments, and as regarded comfort and convenience, 
probably the flat-boat could have been little 
improved. 

The occasion and season of the year were such 
that none could help feeling buoyant and hopeful. 
The sun was now up in the heavens, shedding its 
warm and cheering rays upon forest and river. The 
rain-drops hung like pendent jewels, and the river 


24 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


glistened like molten gold. A thin mist was rising 
along the shore, as the sun's warmth grew greater. 
Now and then a woodsman's cabin was passed, and 
it could be seen nestling in the small clearing, and 
apparently as comfortable as though no enemy had 
ever threatened it. Perhaps the settler himself came 
forth with his wife to wonder and view the passing 
boat, and exchange salutations with the first white 
persons they had seen for months. Toward noon 
they detected a solitary form standing below them, 
upon a bend in the river. A nearer approach, 
showed him to be a hunter. He waved his coon- 
skin cap over his head as they came abreast, gave 
a cheering hurrah, and called out: 

** Keep a powerful look-out for reds, you, fur 
they’re thick as flies in August down toward the Big 
Sandy and Sciota. Wal they is, strangers; and if 
you gits through without gittin’ a taste of thar com- 
pliments, why, here’s as will stand treat all round." 

After giving this warning, the hunter watched 
them a few minutes longer, and then turned and 
disappeared in the forest. 

Some miles farther down they passed a small 
settlement which had been commenced but a few 
months before. A block-house, however, was 
erected and stood at one end, as if to ward off all 
approach. It was a clumsy, awkward building, but 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


25 

abundantly able to answer every purpose for which 
it was intended. It was two stories in height, the 
upper one so much smaller than the lower one, that 
it had the appearance of standing upon a platform. 
The outer edge of this projection was protected by 
palisades, inclosing it, except at one point where the 
gaping mouth of a swivel gave warning of the re- 
sistance it was capable of giving. The instrument 
was of brass, and so brightly burnished that it could 
be seen gleaming in the sunlight by those upon the 
flat-boat. A sentinel was pacing slowly around the 
block-house, a long rifle resting upon his shoulder, 
and his keen eye sweeping the horizon at a glance. 
As he caught sight of the flat-boat, he raised his 
cap and saluted it; and shortly after several others 
appeared beside him and did the same. Our friends 
returned the salutation, and continued watching the 
tiny settlement until the intervening forest hid it 
from view. 

This block-house was constructed somewhat dif- 
ferently from those generally upon the frontiers, al- 
though now and then a similar one is found even at 
this day. 

The settlements and solitary cabins were still 
passed at long intervals, and the night proved so 
dark and cheerless, that they put into shore near a 
small cluster of houses and spent the night. As 


26 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


they were hardly yet in dangerous territory, they 
committed no indiscretion in doing this. 

At sunrise the boat was loosened, and our friends 
were once more floating forward, a day’s journey 
nearer their destination. Nothing worth noting 
occurred through this day. The settlements became 
more rare, and the faces of their kindred scarcer. 
Late in the afternoon they passed the mouth of the 
Muskingum, and at night a small river which put 
in from the Virginia side. There was a slight moon 
this night. A vigilant watch, of course, was main- 
tained, but nothing to excite alarm took place. 

In the morning they were opposite the point where 
the Great Kanawha debouches into the Ohio. The 
settlement here was termed Point Pleasant, by which 
name it is known at the present day. It was at this 
point that they were joined by a man who stated 
that he was a ranger going to Massie’s Station down 
the Ohio. Without the least mistrust or suspicion, 
our friends took him on board, and continued float- 
ing hopefully down the beautiful river. 

This day, when at the mouth of the Big Sandy, 
and just at the elbow of the great bend in the Ohio, 
an attempt was made to decoy them ashore. The 
stranger whom they had taken on board, instantly 
warned them of their danger, and told them that 
they must pay no attention to the entreaties from the 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


27 


white men. The emigrants, as the case stood, would 
not have deviated from their course, but the earnest- 
ness of their new-found friend made them esteem 
him highly and congratulate themselves upon hav- 
ing secured such a valuable ally. 

All, we say, thought thus; but there were two 
exceptions — Marian and a tall, bony, unmarried man 
by the name of Peterson. This fellow looked upon 
their new acquaintance with distrust the minute he 
stepped upon the boat. 

“ I’ll be darned, Marian,” he said, in an undertone 
to her, after they had passed the decoy, ‘‘ ef I don’t 
s’picion that chap. He’s mighty clever, and the 
trouble is he is a leetle too clever” 

Do you really fear him ? ” asked Marian, fright- 
ened at finding that another shared her suspicions. 

“ Fear him? I’d like to see the man Vm afeared 
of. All I’d ask would be to just git them are paws 
on old Simon Girty or that McGable that people 
allow is out in these parts, or that man thar, if he 
ain’t what he orter be, which I allow is the case.” 

At any rate, watch him, Jim, for it won’t do to 
have a traitor within when there were so many with- 
out.” 

'' I’ll watch him, I reckon, Marian ; and by the 
Eternal, the first real genuine sign of treachery I 
see. I’ll shoot him ! You may bet on that.” 


28 


TEE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


As these words were uttered by the indignant Jim 
Peterson to Marian, he stood looking upon the object 
of his remarks with flashing eyes, and gesticulating 
earnestly with his long, bony, muscular arms as 
though he ached to get him once fairly within his 
grasp. In fact, Jim Peterson would have been a 
dangerous customer for any man. He was now 
about thirty years of age, and eight years of his life 
had been spent as scout and ranger. He had served 
under St. Clair and Gen. Harmar, and when the 
former suffered such a disastrous defeat, he became 
so disgusted with the generalship of his leaders, that 
he left the country and settled down in the village 
mentioned at the commencement of this work. 
Here he had remained until the present time ; but the 
daring, wandering, reckless spirit was so strong 
within him that he could resist no longer, and he 
joined the present party with the full determination 
of taking to the woods again as soon as they arrived 
at their destination. 

He was over six feet in height, of a thin, 
attenuated frame, capable of panther-like strength 
and activity, with a keen, restless gray eye, and a 
sharp-featured visage. 

Marian, after the conversation with him, de- 
scended to the cabin; but her mind was in such a 
tumult of fear and apprehension that she could not 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


29 

restrain her agitation. She now firmsly believed that 
the stranger above was an enemy, and that, even with 
the shrewdness of Jim Peterson to protect them, they 
were all still in the utmost peril. But she knew of 
no course to pursue, except to invoke Divine protec- 
tion. Should she impart her suspicions to the 
females around her, they would either ridicule her or 
become so terrified themselves, that the case would 
be infinitely worse. She concluded, at last, that 
there was nothing she could do, and, under Heaven, 
the case must be left to Peterson. 

In a short time night commenced settling over the 
woods and river. The emigrants had now made 
such progress upon their way, that they were about 
half way between the Big Sandy and Sciota. The 
dense forests of Kentucky and Ohio shut down upon 
either hand, and not a sign of civilization met the 
eye. 

Before it was fairly dark, the flat-boat was sud- 
denly hailed from the shore. A white man, limping 
and apparently in great distress, besought them to 
run in and take him on board before the Indians 
reached him. 

“ He's a decoy," remarked the stranger, who had 
intently watched him from the first. 

“ How do you know he is, colonel ? " asked Peter- 


30 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


son, who had intently watched the stranger all the 
time. 

“ How do I know he is ? ’’ repeated the latter. 

I reckon as how any fool as has one eye could tell 
the same mighty quick.” 

You’re sure of it then, eh ? ” 

“ In course I am, ain’t you ? ” 

“ Yas, sir.” 

With this the ranger turned on his heel, satisfied 
that they had a traitor on board. This may seem 
strange to the reader, but it would not be to a 
backwoodsman who understood the case. The 
eagerness and quickness this man had evinced to 
point out danger, ever since he joined our friends, 
was good reason in itself for suspicion. Had he 
been a genuine ranger, he would have hesitated 
before giving his opinion, and not defeat his own 
ends by showing too much knowledge of what was 
unknown to the rest. 

Peterson walked away from him, and commu- 
nicated his suspicions to several of his friends. Just 
as he expected, they laughed at him, and accused 
him almost of meanness. Stung by this rebuke, the 
ranger became silent and sullen and left them. 

In the meantime, the man upon shore was 
bellowing louder than ever. Not content with being 
once refused, he was limping along shore, and be- 





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THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


33 


seeching them in more piteous tones than ever. 
Still the whites resolutely turned their ears against 
him, and would not have noticed him at all, had 
not the stranger spoken. 

I declare, it looks queer anyhow. I never 
knowed one of them decoys to hang on like that.’’ 

You have no notion that he is anything else 
but one, or that he has any object except our own 
destruction ? ” 

I didn’t think different at first, but it begins to 
look doubtful. Just let me say a few words to 
him.” 

With this, he stepped to one side of the boat, and 
called out, What’s your name ? ” 

“ John Haggart.” 

“ How come you to git in such an ugly fix ? ” 

I was out scouting it, and was cotched by the 
Shawnees, and have just got away from them. For 
God’s sake, come and take me off, for they’re after 
me. 

Jump into the river and swim out to us.” 

‘‘ My hurt is too bad ; I’ve got a bullet clean 
through my thigh, and can just drag the leg after 
the other. Yonder is the smoke of their wigwams 
up on the hill and they ain’t fur off. My God ! don’t 
leave a white man thus! Heaven would curse you 
if you did.” 


34 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


Our friends looked in the direction he indicated, 
and could faintly discern in the gathering gloom a 
thin wreath of smoke rising from the trees. The 
suffering man, as if aware of their thoughts, called 
out : 

“ That is whar’ they are, and their runners are out 
after me. May God forever curse you, if you leave 
me here.” 

‘‘ What do yer think ? ” asked the stranger, turn- 
ing round with an air of perplexity to the others. 

I believe that man ain’t a decoy, not at all ; and ef 
he isn’t, we orter not leave him there to be cooked 
by the red devils. Still, I shouldn’t say nothing, but 
leave it with you.” 

“ It will never do to run the boat ashore,” said 
several of the men, firmly. 

“ Oh, I didn’t mean that. In course, it would 
be all-fired foolish to do that ar’ thing. But I’ve 
been thinking ” — and the man dropped his eyes, as 
if in great perplexity — that we orter help that man 
off. To do sich a thing we ain’t compelled by any 
duty to expose ourselves to any danger. What is 
your views, friends ? ” 

** Why, if the thing can be done without imperil- 
ing ourselves, it is our Christian duty to do it ; but 
we are at a loss at present to understand how we 
could manage it thus.” 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


35 


“Oh, easily enough; just run the boat in about 
half way where the water is so shallow that the 
fellow can wade out to us. Keep your eyes open, 
and if there is the least sign of treachery, we can 
fall into the current again and float off.’’ 

“ A good plan, and I see no reason for not carry- 
ing it out.” 

All echoed this sentiment, with the exception of 
Peterson, who still stood apart, in a sullen, pouting 
mood, leaning against the side of the boat, with his 
head dropped upon his breast. 

“ Come, Jim, what do you think of it? ” asked one 
of the emigrants, and the others all turned toward 
him for a reply. 

“ I think, in the first place, you are all a set of the 
thunderingest fools I ever heard of, not to see you’ve 
got a sneaking decoy right among ye, who’s doing 
his purtiest to git you into shore to please that other 
trap.” 

“ Outrageous ! shameful ! ” exclaimed several, 
horrified at the blunt, plain-spoken answer they 
had received. 

“ Go on, and do what you please, but don’t ax 
me nothin’ more, for I’ve got nothing at all to say,” 
added Peterson, who was touched to the quick by 
what he had heard in reply. 

The stranger, it was observed, said nothing at all, 


TEE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


36 

except, after a few minutes, to urge the matter upon 
our friends. It was now quite dark, but the 
shadowy form of the man on shore could be seen 
struggling along, and calling out in tones that were 
really heartrending. The men consulted together 
a while longer, and then it was determined to follow 
the suggestion of their friend. 

The long, guiding oars were dipped into the 
water, and with a loud plash swung a few feet, 
when the unwieldy flat-boat began slowly sliding in 
toward shore. It moved very tardily, however, and 
it was noticed that its progress down stream was 
continually growing less and less. This was ac- 
counted for by the fact that they were getting 
out of the current, and moving in shallow water. 

The man, all this time, was limping and gesticu- 
lating on shore, imploring them to hurry, as his 
life stood in imminent danger every moment, and 
the whites, to their credit be it spoken, worked with 
a good will. - 

They had hardly commenced rowing, when 
Marian asked Peterson whether there -was not 
another person upon the bank. 

“ It is a female, and see how motionless she 
stands! She is just below that man.^' 

“ Yes, I see her — she is waving her hands. 
Hark!” 





h 


i 



THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


39 


‘‘Keep off! keep off! You will all be killed! 
This man is a decoy ! ” called out the person alluded 
to in a beseeching voice. 

“ Who is she ? ’’ asked Marian, growing more 
excited every moment. 

“ Ah ! she’s the Frontier Angel. Haven’t you 
heard of her? When she warns a white, he can 
depend on it she means what she says. This ain’t 
the fust time she has done that thing.” 

“ O Jim ! ” implored Marian, “ this is awful ; 
tell them before it is too late. They cannot but 
heed you.” 

The ranger hesitated a moment, as he remem- 
bered the cutting rebuff he had received; but the 
imploring voice of Marian, together with his own 
sense of duty, conquered. He turned his head and 
looked at the oarsmen. They had paused as the 
warning voice reached them. 

“ What does that mean ? ” asked one. 

“ That gal is the Frontier Angel that you’ve heard 
the boys talk about at the settlement. Ef any of you 
wants red night-caps, don’t mind her; ef you 
doesn’t, jest get back into the channel as soon as 
them oars will take you.” 

Tve heard that that gal you call the Frontier 
'Angel is nobody but a crazy squaw,” said one of 
the oarsmen, still hesitating. 


40 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


“ Go on, then,” said Peterson, stung to the quick 
by this second repulse. ‘‘ I shan^t say no more,” he 
added, in a lower tone, to Marian. 

Didn’t you know that gal is a crazy fool ? ” 
said the stranger, sneeringly. Of course she is, 
and I thought you knowed it. Ef you’re going to 
help that dyin’ feller, you’ve got to be quick about 
it, ’cause the reds can’t be far off.” 

Thus appealed to, the oarsmen commenced, 
although it cannot be said all were free from mis- 
givitigs. , But in the face of the suspicious actions 
of the ' man upon shore, and the continued warnings 
of the Frontier Angel, the flat^hoat gradually 
approached its doom. Severn of the men already 
half-repented their rashness, and stood with their 
eyes fixed upon shore, and an expression of painful 
doubt upon their features. 

Peterson saw all these manifestations, and thus 
communed with himself. 

No use of talkin’, they’re all goin’ sure, and, Jim 
Peterson, the question is what you purpose to do. 
You can tend to yourself well enough, but how 
’bout Marian? It won’t do to leave her. You 
hain’t forgotten, Jim, the time them same reds 
butchered your gal. No, Jim you never forgot 
that, and you never will; and how do you s’pose 
Mansfield will feel ef you leave his gal in the same 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


41 

fix? ’Twon’t do, ’twon’t do, Jim. Can you swim, 
Marian ? ” he asked, turning toward her. 

‘‘ Yes ; why do you ask? ” 

“ It's what has got to be done, Marian. You see, 
we’ll be inshore in a few minutes. Stick by me, 
and I’ll take you overboard.” 

‘‘ Why not now, Jim? ” 

You see it’s getting dark fast, and every minute 
will help us. By the eternal! do you know that 
feller on shore? It is McGable! Hello! the boat 
has struck ! ” 

Such was the case, and what was more alarming 
they were but a few rods from shore. It was 
noticed, too, that the wailing tone of the decoy had 
changed to a more commanding one, while the 
Frontier Angel had disappeared. 

“ What does this mean, sir ? ” asked one of the 
oarsmen, thoroughly alarmed. 

You're my prisoners, sir!” replied the stranger. 

Don’t get excited — it’s no use. That man is 
McGable, and the Shawnees are waitin’ fur yer ha’r. 
Ef you undertake to fight, you’ll be tomahawked 
in a minute; but ef you give in nice like, p’raps 
some of yer ’ll be let alone. Ef you’ve no objections. 
I’ll give the signal for ’em to come aboard.” 

All except Peterson were paralyzed with horror. 


42 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


and seemed utterly speechless. He stepped deliber- 
ately forward and said : 

I’d like to ax a question afore you does that 
thing. What yer going to do with mef ” 

“ Burn and toast you as soon as we get ashore.” 

I rather reckon not, old boss. How does that 
suit? ” 

Before even his victim divined his intention, the 
ranger brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired, 
his ball passing clean through the breast of the 
villain. The latter gave a spasmodic start and gasp, 
a groan, and sucking the breath through his teeth, 
fell forward, the blood spouting in a stream from 
his wound. 

“ Hyer’s as opines as how it won’t be you that’ll 
toast Jim Peterson just yit,” remarked the ranger, 
coolly fastening his rifle to his back. 

“ O God ! what shall we do ? ” frantically wailed 
the settlers. 

“ Fight ! you was so anxious to see McGable, 
you’ll have the chance now. Ef yer’d a minded 
what me and the Frontier Angel said, you wouldn’t 
got into this fix. It won’t do no good to touch the 
oars. You’re fast in the mud, and have got to fight 
it out!” 

Instantly the shore became alive with savages. 
Yells that might have curdled a demon’s blood rent 



“ Onward they poured, shouting like madmen.” 



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THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


45 

the air, and the whole mass of swarming bodies 
plunged into the shallow water, and made for the 
flat-boat. The whites discharged their shots, but 
the numbers and power of their enemies were ir- 
resistible. Onward they poured, shouting like mad- 
men, and clambering up the sides, a scene of 
butchery took place that sickens the heart to con- 
template. 

Peterson saw the critical moment had arrived, 
and catching Marian by the waist, he sprang upon 
the gunwale, intending to leap over. But that in- 
stant a volley was poured into the boat, and a bullet 
struck her. The ranger felt her become a dead 
weight, at the same moment that a stream of hot 
blood poured over his hand. He bent his head 
down, and peered into her face. The dark, blue eyes 
were slowly shutting, and her head dropped heavily. 

“ I am dying, Jim,’^ she murmured. “ God bless 
you for your eifort. Give my last love to Russel, 
mother, and father — good-by ! ** 

“ Heaven bless you ! ” said the ranger, laying her 
gently upon the deck, in spite of the wild scene that 
had commenced. “You’ve escaped that McGable, 
anyhow.” 

Peterson again sprang to the gunwale, and, with 
an almost superhuman leap, bounded outward in the 
darkness and disappeared. 


46 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE TWO SCOUTS. 

One day in spring, a border ranger was making 
his way through the cane-brakes of Kentucky, in 
what is now called Lewis county. 

All through the frontier wars, such men were 
employed by the generals and leaders of the differ- 
ent forces, and they formed no insignificant part of 
their power. Of the American scouts is this 
especially true. A more daring, reckless, and effec- 
tive set of men the world has never known. Scores 
of names have come down to us, whose record is but 
one long, brilliant array of thrilling acts, any one of 
which would have sufficed for the lifetime of an 
ordinary individual. 

For a period of nearly half a century, the valleys 
of the Ohio, Sciota, Miami, Mad, and numerous 
other rivers, were constantly ranged by these char- 
acters, who generally went alone, but sometimes in 
couples, and very rarely in larger companies. Their 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


A7 

whole duty was to spy the hostile Indian tribes. 
The warlike, revengeful Shawnees, a mighty and 
powerful nation in themselves, had so stirred up 
the other tribes, that nothing but eternal watch- 
fulness could guard the settlers from the knife and 
tomahawk. Many long years was the government 
compelled to keep an independent force to protect 
the frontier. The disastrous results of many of 
these campaigns but prolonged the painful war ; 
and the final success of our arms is much more due 
to the prowess of these border rangers, than we are 
apt to imagine. Every artifice was adopted by them 
to secure the necessary information. Should the 
tribes collect in unusual numbers in any village, 
there was sure to be a pair of keen eyes watching 
every movement from some hiding-place. Their 
deadliest enemies ventured in disguise among the 
Indians, dogged their trail for days, or lay con- 
cealed in such proximity that only at night did they 
dare to creep forth. All perils were undergone by 
these hardy men. 

Such a character we have now to deal with. 

Had we been in close proximity to him, we might 
have heard a slight rustling now and then, and per- 
haps the breaking of a small twig. The scout was 
proceeding with caution, but it was evident that it 
was more from habit than from any suspicion of 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


48 

danger. Were there savages in the vicinity, not the 
slightest noise would have betrayed his presence to 
the most watchful one. 

A moment after, the bushes parted, and the ranger, 
in a half-crouching position, emerged into the open 
wood. Here he straightened himself up, and dis- 
closed a frame wondrously like that of Peterson. 
Tall, sinewy, graceful, and thin almost to emacia- 
tion, with a sharp-featured face, half-covered by a 
thin, straggling beard, and small twinkling eyes 
of such glittering blackness that they fairly scintil- 
lated fire in excitement — these were the noticeable 
characteristics of the man. 

After coming into the open wood, he stood a 
moment, as if listening, and then strode rapidly 
forward, trailing a long nitid rifle as he did so. 
Reaching the edge of the river, he suddenly halted 
and darted behind a tree. His quick eye had dis- 
covered sign.” From this point he peered cau- 
tiously out, and then instantly jerked his head back 
again. This movement was repeated several times, 
until, at last he held his head in a stationary posi- 
tion. After gazing a few minutes, he muttered : 

“ Yes, it^s a flat-boat aground, sure as my name’s 
Dick Dingle. Things look s’pishus the way it’s 
sticking in the mud thar. Some of the blasted 
Shawnees’ work, I’ll swar ; and I’ll bet my head that 







THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


51 

that ar’ Tom. McGable's been at the bottom of the 
whole. Ef I could only meet that dog in a fair 
stand-up fight^ I wouldn’t ax no other boon. I’d go 
home, fold my arms, and with a smile upon my 
brow, lay down and softly go under. Jest keep 
docile now, Dick Dingle, and look around afore 
you gets nigher that concern out thar’. Like as not 
it’s a hornet’s nest full of reds.” 

For over two hours Dingle reconnoitered the flat- 
boat, and all the time kept himself carefully con- 
cealed from it. He glided around in the wood, 
viewing it from every imaginable position that 
could be reached from the shore. At last he seemed 
satisfied. 

“ Whosomever is in that flat-boat ain’t livin', that’s 
sartin; and whosomever is watching it from shore 
ain’t nigh enough to hurt you, Dingle, so hyer goes.” 

With this, he stepped softly into the water, and 
waded out toward the flat-boat. After reaching it, 
he again paused a moment, glanced toward the 
shore, and then placing his hand upon the gunwale, 
bounded over into the boat. The ranger, probably 
the first time in his experience, instead of alight- 
ing firmly upon his feet, slipped and immediately 
fell flat upon his side; but he instantly sprang 
up again, and then saw the cause of his mis- 
hap. He had alighted directly in a pool of dark, 


52 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


thick, sticky blood ! The sight that met his eye was 
enough to freeze with horror, for a moment, even 
him who was used to meeting death in every re- 
pulsive shape! The deck was slippery with blood, 
and from the cabin came the sickening smell of 
death. Blood and brains were scattered around, 
against, and upon everything, but not a corpse was 
visible 1 

“ They’ve tomahawked ’em all, and pitched 
’em overboard. Ef that ain’t enough to make a 
minister or even a scout swear, then my name ain’t 
Dick Dingle, that’s all. That ar’ McGable’s been 
hyer, sure; ’cause whar he's been nobody lives, 
and I ca’c’late nobody of them poor whites has lived 
in these parts. Wal, wal, it’s bad business. I like 
scouting it when the killin’ is all on our side; but 
it ain’t, by a heap. Ef it wan’t, why we wouldn’t 
need to scout; but that ar’ McGable is bound to 
squar’ accounts with me yit for this night’s busi- 
ness.” 

The ranger remained a short time longer, ex- 
amining the flat-boat, which, as the reader has prob- 
bably supposed, was the one whose sad fate was 
recorded in the preceding chapter. He was satisfied 
that not a soul had survived the frightful massacre, 
and after a few minutes’ further delay, he again 
dropped into the water, and made his way to land. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


53 

He stepped cautiously ashore, and, as was his in- 
variable custom, commenced talking to himself. 

“ Old Mad Anthony sent me down in these parts 
to find out what the reds ar’ drivin at, and reckon 
as how I've found — hello, Dingle, what are ye 
about?" 

With the last question, uttered in a hurried 
whisper, the ranger disappeared like a shadow. 
Had any one been beside him, he would have been 
at a loss to understand the cause of the sudden 
movement, for not the least noise was audible, nor 
the slightest movement visible. But the truth was 
the scout, all at once, became aware that some 
person beside himself was in the wood. The instant 
of discovery he dropped upon his hands and knees, 
and glided swiftly and noiselessly away, and com- 
menced reconnoitering the stranger to ascertain his 
identity and intentions. 

Now, it so happened that the latter was in pre- 
cisely the same situation, and it was a singular 
coincidence that both should make the discovery of 
the other's presence, and commence seeking to know 
him at the same moment. 

But thus it was, and the stratagems, maneuvers, 
and artifices resorted to by each to accomplish his 
ends, were extraordinary. For nearly two hours 
they dodged and feinted, glided and retreated, with- 


54 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


out coming any nearer success, and finally made the 
discovery by accident. Dingle came to the con- 
clusion that whoever his rival was, he was certainly 
a genuine woodsman, and, if an Indian, one who 
was well worthy of coping with him. But the con- 
summate tact and skill displayed, led him to sus- 
pect the other was a white man, and for this reason 
he became more careless in his movements. The 
consequence was that, after he had flitted from one 
tree to another, he began to doubt whether he 
had accomplished the movement successfully; and, 
while thus doubting, he heard his name called. 

Shoot me, if that ain't you, Dick Dingle ! 
Why don’t you come out and shake paws with an 
old friend ? ” 

And the next minute Jim Peterson stepped 
boldly forth. 

“ Wal, Jim, I might’ve knowed that was your 
ugly picter. Whar’d you come from ? ” 

The two grasped hands, and gave, what Edward 
Everett terms, the genuine tourniquet shake. They 
had been brother rangers through Gen. St. Clair’s 
war, and had ever been together, encountering all 
imaginable dangers, and were the joint heroes of 
the most wonderful escapes. And when we say 
that neither had seen the face of the other for over 
six years, it may well be supposed that their meeting 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


55 


was of the most pleasant kind. As they stood, 
grasping hands, and smilingly exchanging jocose 
remarks in their characteristic way, the resemblance 
between them was most remarkable. In fact, they 
had often, when in service, been taken for brothers, 
and their identity was often confounded. The 
Shawnees, who knew them rather more than they 
cared about, termed them the “ Double Long- 
Knives.’’ Both were tall, graceful, and sinewy, as 
straight as arrows, and with faces sparsely bearded, 
and, to increase the perplexity of separating them, 
they dressed precisely alike. But Dingle had small, 
black eyes, and a sharp Roman nose, while Peterson 
had eyes of a light gray color, and a nose a perfect 
Grecian in cast. 

Come, Dick, what are you doin’ in these 
parts ? ” asked Peterson. 

“ I’m out fur Mad Anthony, as you might know, 
and have been taking a look at the flat-boat there. 
Ah ! bad business ! bad business, Jim ! ” 

‘‘ Yas, if you’d have only seed it, Dick, you might 
say so.” 

“Do you know anything ’bout it? Who the 
poor wretches was? — when ’twas done? — how they 
came to do it ? — and who done it ? ” asked Dingle, 
excitedly. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


56 

I war on that boat, and the only one who saved 
his hair/^ 

The only one, Jim ? 

‘‘The only one; and when I got clean off, I jist 
clapped my hand on my head to see ef my hair was 
thar still, fur I had strong doubts of it. I was 
the only one! I took a long jump and a dive 
fur it.” 

“ How was it, when you was on, that they come 
in for one of the all-fired decoys ? ” 

“ I couldn’t hender them ; ” and Peterson pro- 
ceeded to give, in a few words, what is already 
known to the reader. 

“ Let me ax you one thing,” said Dingle, when 
he had finished. “ Do you know whether that 
renegade McGable had anything to do with this 
business ? ” 

“ He was the decoy himself ; but a feller come 
on board up at the Kanawha who got the poor 
fools to run into shore.” 

“ Was he a short, squashy-looking imp? ” 

“ He war exactly so.” 

“Then ’twas Pete Gammock. I know him. He 
and McGable have hung together fur three — four 
years that way. That’s his plan; he’s tried the 
same trick afore. He goes on the flat-boats, at 
some place up that way, and purtends he’s one of us 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


57 

going down the river to the * Three Islands ^ 
Marysville, or some of the forts. After he gits on, 
he fixes so as to pull the wool over thar eyes, and 
when McGable bawls out fur ’em to come ashore, 
he persuades ’em to do it.” 

“ He’ll never do it agin, fur I settled the business 
with him soon as he owned up he’d come the gam- 
mon game. I feel sorry, Dick, mighty sorry fur 
them poor whites that was sarved that mean trick; 
but thar was one among ’em that went under, and 
I ain’t ashamed to own it makes me feel watery to 
think on it. I left her dyin’ on board just as I 
jumped over and the imps clambered up.” 

Peterson drew the sleeve of his hunting-shirt 
across his eyes, and Dingle, with respect to his feel- 
ings, remained silent a moment, when he returned: 
“ P’r’aps she ain’t gone under, Jim; maybe the 
reds have gone off with her.” 

No they haven’t ; she’s out in the river yender 
somewhar. The reds tomahawked every one. I 
kinder had a faint hope she might be among ’em, 
and I’ve been follerin’ them to find out. I seed all 
the Injuns, and that infarnal McGable among ’em. 
They had plenty of hair hangin’ to their girdles, but 
they hadn’t a captive among ’em. That ar’ McGable 
tried to get Marian Abbot, and because she wouldn’t 
have him, he has done this. I b’lieve he fired the 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


58 

gun that killed her, when I had her in my arm just 
goin’ to jump overboard to take a swim for it. 
And, Dick, I swear that I’ll never rest till that 
renegade McGable pays for this.” 

“I jine you in that!” said Dingle, taking his 
hand. We’ll hunt him together. He’s murdered 
enough of his own blood, and we’ll stop it right off.” 

“ I’ve got to go and tell the old folks of it, and 
young Mansfield. I know it’ll break their hearts, 
and I’d rather be shot and burnt than do it; but 
it’s got to be done, and I must do it.” 

“ Are you goin’ now ? ” 

Yas, right away. As soon as I see ’em. I’ll be 
back agin. I’ll wait fur you down at the fort below.” 

“ And what then, Jim'? ” 

We’ll start off on that hunt,” said Peterson, in a 
low tone, and with this, the two rangers separated, 
and took different directions in the forest. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


59 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE FAINT HOPE. 

There is a scene that we must not dwell upon. 
There are some that awaken emotions which no 
pen can describe, no imagination conceive. When 
Peterson, the ranger, communicated the dreadful 
intelligence of the fate of Marian to her parents, the 
shock was terrible. The mother swooned away, and 
for nearly a week remained more in death than life. 
The father received the shock like the oak when 
riven by the thunderbolt — firm and unbending, but 
still shattered to the very heart. He groaned in 
spirit, but, for the sake of his wife, bore up with 
superhuman calmness. But it well-nigh killed him ; 
and his wife, when she was pulled from the grasp 
of death, felt that she could never, never recover 
from it. Her heart was broken. 

Russel Mansfield bore the affliction like a man. 
He held up in the presence of others ; but there were 
moments when alone in which he gave way to his 


6o 


THE FRONTIER AEGEL, 


great woe. We have no desire to dwell upon this 
painful scene, but hasten forward. 

The resolution of Abbot to emigrate still farther 
to the west, instead of being weakened by this sad 
calamity, was strengthened into a determination. 
Why it was, he would almost have been at a loss 
to tell. We all know that when death, for the first 
time, strikes down some one near and dear to us, 
it is difficult to believe that such is the case; it is a 
long time before we can bring ourselves to realize it. 
There is a singular, lingering doubt, the faint shadow 
of a hope that, after all, it is not death, and that 
through the subtle power of medicine the lost one 
will still return to us. And even, after burial, for 
a long time, there will be moments when we give 
way to the same extraordinary hope and find our- 
selves indulging in dreams of fancy in which the lost 
one is again found. 

Those who have had a similar experience to this, 
will appreciate the feeling that led Abbot and his 
stricken wife to emigrate to the scene which was 
so full of horror to them. The same motive 
strengthened the determination of Mansfield, al- 
though his parents now refused to accompany the 
party. Several of the other families also refused, 
so that the company bid fair to be alarmingly small. 
Peterson had whispered to Mansfield the intention 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. gj 

of Dingle and himself of seeking out the renegade 
McGable and revenging themselves upon him, and 
he was anxious to either join them or be so situated 
that he could receive the earliest intelligence of 
their success. 

Accordingly, one morning in September, another 
flat-boat floated away from the village referred to at 
the commencement of this work, and carrying with 
it four families only, together with young Mansfield. 
The weather continued fine all the way, and they 
experienced no difficulty in reaching their destina- 
tion. Just before they reached the Sciota, a des- 
perate attempt was made to get them ashore. Mans- 
field, shrewdly suspecting that it was McGable him- 
self who acted the part of a decoy, raised his rifle 
with the intention of shooting him ; but the wily 
demon was too quick for him. He suspected some- 
thing, and secreted himself before Mansfield could 
secure his aim. The latter, however, fired, and came 
so uncomfortably close, that the decoy ceased his 
entreaties, and, by way of a return for the compli- 
ment, a whole volley was fired at the flat-boat by the 
concealed savages. Some of the bullets struck the 
boat and the others whistled overhead, but they 
did no further damage. 

The settlement, which was the destination of our 
friends, was a few miles further down the river, 


62 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


and they came in sight of it about the middle of the 
afternoon. As Peterson had given the settlers notice 
of their coming, they were expected and joyfully 
welcomed. The flat-boat was swept into shore and 
fastened, and, with the aid of the willing settlers, 
its contents removed in an incredibly short space 
of time. The boat itself was then hauled as far up 
the bank as possible, and taken carefully apart, and 
its timbers preserved for building purposes. 

As this village is to be the location of many of the 
succeeding incidents of our story, we will here briefly 
describe it, and then hasten forward to the incidents 
that follow. 

The settlement consisted of about twenty cab- 
ins, and numbered a hundred inhabitants. A small 
block-house was erected near the lower end of the 
village for immediate refuge in rase of sudden 
attack ; but the governor of the territory had 
ordered a large one to be erected and continually 
manned by men well-skilled in border warfare. This 
block-house was erected in advance of the settlement 
itself, so as to better guard the approach of an enemy. 
It stood in a broad clearing, protected on the one 
hand by a marshy swamp, and the other by the 
Ohio river. The block-house consisted of two 
stories. The lower one was about thirty feet square, 
and the upper thirty-three, so that it projected over 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


63 

the lower, giving those within an opportunity of 
defending the door and windows, in case a deter- 
mined attack was made. A well had been sunk in 
one corner, so that if besieged they could not be 
brought to terms by thirst. The roof was so steeply- 
shelving as to prevent any burning missiles from 
remaining upon it, and the planks themselves were 
so smooth-shaven that the most agile savage could 
not maintain a position upon it for an instant. The 
sides were built of solid green logs of some eighteen 
or twenty inches in diameter, dove-tailed at the ends 
in the usual manner, and the interstices filled in with 
mortar. The doors and windows and shutters were 
bars of ponderous puncheons, secured by massive 
bars of wood on the inside. The upper part of the 
house was pierced with numerous loop-holes, through 
which a large force could keep up a constant fire 
upon their assailants. 

The block-house was surrounded by a substan- 
tial wall of palisades. These were made by cutting 
trees of a foot in diameter into pieces fifteen feet in 
length. These pieces were then quartered, hewed off 
sharply at one end, and driven four feet into the 
solid ground, leaving eleven feet above. The 
palisades were kept firmly in their places by means 
of stout braces and wall-pieces upon the inside ; and, 
as they were set with their smooth side outward, and 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


64 

close together, no force could scale them without 
the aid of ladders. 

A flagstaff stood a few feet from the block-house, 
and the stars and stripes ever waved from the sum- 
mit. At the second story was a projection, facing 
the forest, upon which the sentinel passed most of 
his time while on duty, and which supported a 
swivel, so hung that it could be brought to bear 
upon almost any point from which danger was to be 
apprehended. 

This fort was quite a celebrated one, and being 
manned by the governor with an active force, was 
much resorted to by the scouts and rangers along 
the frontiers. Dick Dingle was enrolled as a mem- 
ber of this company, although the governor and the 
commander of the fort knew there was no 
use of undertaking to bring any such character under 
discipline. He was allowed to go and come when 
he pleased, and it may be said, in fact, that the 
whole class of frontier rangers were a set of Border 
Zouaves. They were ever in the most perilous 
situations, did the most dangerous service, and 
acknowledged no leader other than their own free 
will. The commander, with several of his leading 
men, had served in the capacity of rangers, and 
were all adepts in Indian warfare. 

It was the duty of Dingle to range through the 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


65 

adjoining country, to keep a constant watch upon 
the movements of the Indians, and to return as often 
as possible with his report to the commander. At 
this time there were other scouts performing similar 
duties in other situations, who have since become 
celebrated in history. McArthur, White, McCleland, 
and Davis, and the Whetzel brothers are the ones 
to whom we refer. They occasionally visited the 
fort singly, but never in company, and sometimes re- 
mained several days in conversation and feasting 
with their friends. 

Peterson, upon his return with Dingle, had had 
his name enrolled as a member of the company at the 
block-house ; and they had already made several ex- 
cursions in company. When Abbot and his friends 
arrived at the settlement, these two scouts had just 
returned from a journey up the Sciota valley to one 
of the Shawnee towns. The genial settlers, having 
known of the coming of their new friends, showed 
their good-will by erecting several cabins and pre- 
senting them to the new-comers immediately upon 
their arrival. By dusk. Abbot, with his wife and 
Mansfield, were snugly domiciled in theirs, and 
ready to join their neighbors, on the morrow, in 
clearing the forest, breaking the ground, or what- 
ever their duty might chance to be. 

Although Abbot had not seen Peterson, he had 


66 


TEE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


heard that he was in the settlement, and sent for him 
in the evening. The good-hearted fellow had pur- 
posely kept out of the way, for fear that his presence 
would be painful to them, but upon hearing the wish 
of Abbot, he immediately went to his house. 

The meeting could not be but painful upon both 
sides. There was a manifest restraint about the 
ranger, for he well knew the feelings that must be 
awakened by his presence. The conversation turned 
upon ordinary subjects, and each carefully refrained 
from any allusion that might bring up the matter 
that was in the mind of every one. 

In the course of a half hour or so, the quick eye 
of Mrs. Abbot saw her presence was a restraint upon 
something her husband wished to say ; and she made 
an excuse for withdrawing and retiring for the night. 

After she had gone, the conversation continued a 
short time as usual, and then, as it sometimes will, 
it suddenly came to a dead pause. Utter silence 
fell upon all. 

‘‘Jim,^’ said Abbot, glancing furtively around to 
assure himself that his wife was not witkin hearing, 
Jim, I must once more speak about that” 

** Wal ? ” queried the ranger, uneasily. 

“ I must ask you once more to narrate, as 
particularly as is in your power, the account of the 
attack upon the flat-boat, and the death of Marian. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 

I will not ask you to give anything else but that 
alone.” 

“ I dunno as I can tell anything more, but, how- 
sumever, I can tell that over again if you want it,” 
and thereupon he proceeded to give with fearful 
vividness, the dying-words and actions of Marian 
Abbot. The father heard him all through, without 
a syllable of interruption, keeping his lips com- 
pressed, his brow knit, and his eye fixed upon the 
smoldering fire before him. 

^^You think, Jim, then, that she is — she must be 
dead ? ” he inquired. 

''Why, Abbot, ’sposen I had fifty bullets right 
smack through this h'yer noddle of mine, and you 
should ax me if I had any s'pishions I’d survive, and 
I should tell you I was as dead as a door nail, 
wouldn’t you believe me ? ” 

" Of course.” 

" Wal, then, though I’m sorry to say it, there ain’t 
a bit more hope for her. She never seed the devils 
that climbed over the boat. She died afore I got 
twenty feet from the boat.” 

"You are certain of itf** 

"Yes, sir; I’m certain.” 

" You must wonder at my talking thus, Jim ; but 
I have no hopes either; I have given her up long 


68 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


since. I have still one wish— to know what fate 
attended her body.” 

“ I can tell you that.” 

What was it ? ” 

“ She was thrown overboard with the others.” 

‘‘You did not see that done, Jim, and cannot be 
sure of it.” 

The ranger was about to contradict him, and tell 
that he had followed the murderers and seen that 
they bore no body with them; but he did not, and 
Abbot continued. 

“ It is this doubt — this uncertainty that still 
troubles me. When that has been cleared up I shall 
never speak of the subject again. Russel has told 
me that you and Dingle are going to seek revenge 
upon McGable ? ” 

“ We are not going to seek it ; we are going to get 
it.” 

“ I profess to be a Christian, and the Bible teaches 
me that vengeance is not for us, but for One alone. 
And, Jim, I can really say that I have no desire that 
McGable should suffer at your hands. God knows 
that he has broken two hearts, but the time will 
come when he will have to answer for it.” 

“ That's my idee, exactly, and I reckon as how 
'twill be a little sooner than he expects.” 

“ He knows, if any human being does, the fate 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 69 

of Marian. Obtain, if possible, first of all, the truth 
from him.’’ 

“ I can’t see just now, Abbot, how that’s gwine 
to be done.” 

Take him captive and bring him in, and we will 
make him answer. Do you not think you and your 
companion may succeed in capturing him ? ” 

“ P’r’aps so — bein’ it’s your wish we’ll do our 
best to do it, and,” added Petetrson to himself, “ O 
Lordy ! won’t we skemer the old devil when we git 
him. We’ll toast him afore a slow fire. I’ll bet my 
life.” 

“ Get him, if you can, Jim, and you will confer 
a favor that I shall never be able to repay.” 

Never mind about that, the thing will he done! ” 
Shortly after this, Peterson took his departure. 


70 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE MYSTERIOUS WARNING. 

It was a mild September night in 179-. The day 
had been one of those warm, hazy ones that some- 
times appear at that season of the year, and the 
night had set in with delicious coolness. There was 
a faint moon in the heavens, and several flaky clouds 
were drifting past it, causing their fantastic shadows 
to glide like phantoms over the settlement, some- 
times, for a moment, throwing it into shadow, and 
then permitting the moonlight again to stream down 
upon it. 

Most of the settlers had withdrawn within their 
cabins, and as the hour had grown quite late, there 
were few, if any, stirring through the village. A 
few pencils of light issued from the upper 
port-holes of the block-house, showing that those 
inside were still up; and a hearty laugh, ringing 
out now and then, told as plainly that they were 
engaged in their usual habit of story-telling and 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


71 


joking. Peterson was inside relating one of his 
earlier experiences, which infinitely amused them all, 
the commander not hesitating to join in the merri- 
ment. 

On the outside, the slow-measured tread of the 
sentinel was heard, and his form could be seen 
against the wall of the block-house, as he walked to 
and fro upon the platform. His keen eye never 
failed to take in at every turn, every noticeable object 
before him. At one end of the projection, he had 
a view of the river, now glistening in the sheen of 
the moonlight like liquid silver ; and, during the re- 
mainder of his walk, his vision rested upon the 
broad, gloomy, murmuring forest, stretching mile 
after mile before him, until, at last, it joined the sky 
away in the faint horizon. It was Dick Dingle, 
whose watch extended until midnight. 

While in the act of turning on his heel, at the 
end of the platform, he suddenly stopped as some- 
thing suspicious caught his eye. Far up the Ohio, 
at such a distance that it would have been invisible 
to ordinary eyes, he saw a small, dark body in the 
water. At first, it had the appearance of a large 
bird swimming over the surface, but the hunter well 
knew that it was a canoe, approaching from the 
Ohio side. A slight protuberance near the middle, 
convinced him that there was but one person in it. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


72 

When about three-fourths of the way across, the 
sparkle of the ashen oars could be seen, as they 
dipped in the water. A moment after, it entered the 
line of shadows upon the Kentucky shore and disap- 
peared. 

Dingle’s suspicion was aroused. The long silence 
and inactivity of the savages had led him to the 
belief that they were preparing to strike a great blow 
upon the settlements. Neither he nor Peterson had 
been scouting lately, and he had no means of dis- 
covering their intentions. 

Leastways, Dick Dingle,” he muttered, as he 
resumed his walk, it won’t do fur you to wink both 
eyes at the same time. Look out fur sign.” 

He continued walking with the same measured, 
deliberate tread backward and forward, apparently 
watching nothing, and yet maintaining a more than 
usual scrutiny upon the river and forest. A half- 
hour passed away, and finally an hour had elapsed, 
without bringing any new suspicion to him ; but he 
was well aware that this delay was as good reason 
for apprehension, as could have been the noise of 
approach. 

“ You don’t cotch Dingle asleep in the night-time, 
or when there’s reds about. It would do to let on 
that. Now let’s see, Dingle, you old fool, what do 
you s’pose the imps are up to now? Jest go to 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


73 

meditatin’ will you and cipher it out. In the first 
place, and afore anything else, they’re up to 
sunktkin^ ; and that ar’ sunkthin’ is the devil. Con- 
sequently, it’s a pinted fact, that they’re up to the 
devil, and therefore, Dingle, there’s sunkthin’ in the 
wind ; so mind your eye and look out for squalls. 
Wish they’d hurry up ’cause it’s gettin’ well on to 
that green feller’s watch, and I’d like to have an 
idee given me of their intentions ef they’re no 
partickler objections.” 

The eccentric ranger continued his walk, occa- 
sionally interspersing it with characteristic observa- 
tions similar to those above ; and, all the time, won- 
dering why it was that something else “ didn’t turn 
up ” to give him an “ idee ” ; but another hour wore 
away without bringing the desired knowledge to 
him. 

By this time, it was near midnight, and shortly 
after, a man appeared beside him to relieve him of 
his watch. This new-comer was known as Jenkins, 
and was what the rangers termed a “green hand: ” 
that is, he had seen little or nothing of Indian serv- 
ice, and was not one who could be relied upon in 
an emergency. Several practical jokes had been 
played upon him, such as getting him into the wood 
and raising an alarm of Indians, or firing very closely 
to him from concealment; and the result of these 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


74 

same tricks had given one or two a suspicion that 
he was somewhat lacking in courage, and would 
show the white feather if pressed to the wall. 

“ Careful and not get a snoozin’ to-night,” re- 
marked Dingle. 

“ Why ? you don’t s’pose I would, do you ? ” 

“ Didn’t know but what you might ; thought I’d 
tell you anyway, ’cause it won't do to shut your eyes 
to-night." 

“Why? what’s the matter? What’s up, eh?’^ 
queried Jenkins eagerly. 

“ Oh, nothin’ in partickler ; only I’ve seen Injins 
to-night.” 

“Pshaw! don’t say so? You’re joking, Dick?” 

“ Ef you think so, jest think on, but ef you don’t 
see sights afore mornin’, it’ll be ’cause you can’t 
see: that’s all,” and Dingle with a warning shake 
of his head turned to enter the block-house. 

“ Oh say, Dick, that ain’t fair ! ” said Jenkins, 
laying his hand on his shoulder. 

“ What’s the matter ? Ain’t scart, be you ? 
demanded the ranger, confronting him with an 
angry countenance. 

“Oh! no-no-no, I ain’t scart at all — not at all; 
I only want you to tell a feller all about it. You 
might do that, I think.” 

“ Wal, see hyer then. I seed four or five Shaw- 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


75 

nees skulking out yonder near the wood, tryin* to 
draw bead on me, and I had to do some tall dodging 
to hender them. Youll have to hop around rather 
agile, but I guess you can steer clear. Ef you git 
hit, holler and I’ll haul you in and let you die inside.” 

Oh, thunder ! hold on, Dingle, don’t go and 
leave a feller this way. I don’t think it’s the fair 
shake at all.” 

“ What in blazes do you want ? ” demanded the 
ranger, again indignantly facing him. 

“Why, I was a-going to say — just to kind of 
make the observation, you know — ^that — perhaps — I 
would think — that is — I would like to know if you 
wouldn’t just as lief stay out here a while?” 

“ What for?” 

“ Oh, just for company. I’ll do the same favor 
for you some of these times.” 

“ I never want anybody . out hyer when I’m 
standin’ watch.” 

“ Won’t you stay, Dingle ? ” 

“ No.” 

And the scout turned and entered the block- 
house. But it was by no means his intention to in- 
trust the safety of the settlement to such hands as 
Jenkins’; he only wished to test his courage, and 
create a little diversion for his own individual 
benefit. He shut the door and listened. 


THE FRONTIER ANQEL. 


76 

He could hear Jenkins walking along the plat- 
form, stamping his feet bravely upon it, and whis- 
tling as loudly as his lips would possibly permit him. 
Dingle ventured to open the door very slightly and 
peep out at him. He saw him with his hands thrust 
deep down into his pockets, his rifle leaning against 
the block-house, and shooting his feet far out in ad- 
vance, and slapping them down on the planks with 
such effect as to set the men within growling and 
snarling at each other, as they half awoke from 
their slumbers. His hat was jammed down upon the 
back of his head, his hair dashed away from his 
forehead, the white of his eyes only being visible, 
as the pupils were constantly turned toward the 
dreaded wood. His mouth resembled the letter O, 
fringed around the edges, as he resolutely main- 
tained its position. Old Hundred came out 
loudly, the fall of each foot being emphasized by a 
desperate burst of wind and music, and a spasmodic 
jerk of the head now and then. When the whistle, 
at times, became more windy than musical, he 
rested his lips by communings with himself. 

“Darn the In jins! I wish they were all dead! 
I can’t see what they want poking round here when 
I’m standing watch. If I catch sight of one. I’ll 
bet he will wish he never heard of Pete Jenkins! 
They’re mean to be watching us all the time. If I 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


77 

was the In jins, I would keep hunting the deers and 
bears and I never would come around here when I 
was standing watch, but I’d shoot that Dingle, be- 
cause he’s so everlastingly mean. Let me see : I was 
turning ‘ Old Hundred,’ I believe.” The tune was 
now resumed, and continued a short time, when he 
again broke forth. “ If them In jins will only stay 
away till morning I won’t care, though it would be 
all the same to me, and perhaps just as well if they 
didn’t come then either. I was just thinking — 
hello ! Jerusalem ! I seen something move then as 
sure as the world ! ” 

Dingle, who had been listening all the while, now 
judged that it was time to venture forth, and, clos- 
ing the door behind him, stood upon the platform. 
Jenkins, whose eyes were turned toward the wood, 
saw nothing of him, until he tumbled over his bent 
form. 

“ Thunderation ! that you, Dingle? what you 
doing here ? ” he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet 
again. 

I thought I’d come out and keep you company 
a while.” 

“ Good ! I am glad of it, for I feel dreadful 
lonely.” 

“ Seen anything? ” 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


78 

** I thought I did, out yonder near the edge of the 
wood.” 

Dingle looked intently toward the point indicated 
a few moments, and then became satisfied that Jen- 
kins was right — there was a person there. While 
gazing in this direction, he purposely kept his body 
concealed by the guard around the platform. He 
continued his watch upon the suspicious object, 
and at last satisfied himself of the identity of the 
person who had thus alarmed his friend. 

“ All right ! ” he muttered to himself. “ It’s the 
Frontier Angel, and there’s no danger of her hurt- 
ing any' one. She’s got sunkthin’ to tell, and she’s 
waitin’ to see ef I’m about. Howsumever, I’ll keep 
shady a while, just to see how this long-legged feller 
hyer will jump when she gives notice she’s around.” 

Anything there?” asked Jenkins, for the third 
or fourth time. 

'' Yas, there is; don’t make too much noise.” 

“What makes you stoop down, Dick?” he asked, 
in a whisper. 

“ I can see better this way.” 

“ Shan’t I stoop down, too ? ” 

“ Ef you’re afraid.^' 

“ I ain’t afraid at all, only — O Lord, I’m shot ! ” 
suddenly exclaimed Jenkins, falling down and 
moaning as if in his death struggle. Dingle was 






THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


8l 


not surprised ; he had heard the twang of a bow, the 
whizz of the arrow, and now saw it sticking several 
feet above him in the wood of the block-house. He 
had expected this, for it was the manner in which 
that mysterious being, known along the border as 
the Frontier Angel, gave notice of her presence 

“ Get up, you fool,’’ he commanded, giving his 
moaning companion a kick, and now thoroughly 
provoked at the cowardice he had shown. “ Get up, 
I tell y .^u ; you ain’t hit, but it’s a pity you wasn’t. 
N~>body has fired at you, or tried to hit you.” 

“ Didn’t they ? Come to think, I believe they 
didn’t; but the fact is, Dingle, I’ve been subject to 
fits ever since I was a boy — darnation ! do you mean 
to say I fell on purpose?” demanded Jenkins, sud- 
denly regaining his upright position and his courage 
at the same time, at finding that he was unharmed. 
No ; but it’s kinder queerish the way you fell.” 

'' Yes, them plaguy falling fits take me any 
time ” 

“ Never mind about the fits, or I’ll give you some 
more. You stay hyer and keep watch while I go 
down to the gate.” 

“ What — what you going to do there ? ” 

There’s somebody as wants to see me.” 

*‘You won’t be gone long, will you? Who 
is it?” 


82 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


“ The one that fired that arrow up there at you.” 

O Jerusalem! and so they shot at me after all. 
I knowed so.” 

“ Wal, keep that jaw of your’n still, or you’ll git 
shot at agin; and, if you do, you won’t be missed 
either. I’ll be back pretty soon.” 

With these words Dingle descended and made 
his way to the gate at the palisades, to receive the 
message of the Frontier Angel. 


THE FRONTIER ANQEL. 


83 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE FRONTIER ANGEL — ^THE SHAWNEES. 

The person referred to in the preceding chapter 
as the Frontier Angel, had received that appellation 
from the scouts and rangers who had known her for 
several years. We say had known her, but beyond 
the mere fact of her existence, nothing was known. 
Who she was or where she had come from was a 
mystery to all. She was ever painted and dressed 
in the fantastic costume of an Indian, but many sup- 
posed her to be a white person, and gave as a rea- 
son that her language was precisely the same as 
that used by themselves. She discarded entirely the 
extravagant, high-flown figures so much in vogue 
among the North American Indians, and - which 
often renders their meaning unintelligible to ordi- 
nary persons. She was always alone, and rarely if 
ever seen in the daytime. The whole object of her 
life seemed to be that of befriending the settlers. 
More than once her timely warning had saved scores 
of whites from the fury of the savages. Sometimes 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


84 

she would make her appearance among the settle- 
ments in the Sciota Valley, and after giving full 
intelligence of the movements of their enemies, 
would take her departure; and the next that would 
be heard of her, would be that she had performed 
a similar office for the villages further east. She 
became known to all the rangers, nearly all of whom 
regarded her not as either a white person or an 
Indian, but as a spirit — an angel; and it was thus 
that she had gained the name that we have men- 
tioned. These hardy, but superstitious beings, 
reverenced her as something far above them, whose 
touch would be instant death. Lewis Whetzel, the 
most famous of the four celebrated brothers, was 
the one who, to his dying day, carried out the very 
letter of the vow he had made, never to let any 
treaty, flag of truce, or any imaginable pretense, 
screen an Indian from his vengeance. This terrible 
resolution he had made for the inhuman butchery of 
his parents when a mere boy by the savages. The 
case is familiar to all, of his having associated with 
Veach Dickerson, and killed an Indian in the face 
of the proclamation issued by General Harmar, that 
all hostilities should cease for a few days in order 
to negotiate with them. The reward offered by 
Harmer for his apprehension, his capture, and 
subsequent escape to the woods again, could not 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


85 

induce him to abate one tittle of his unceasing hos- 
tility. It is said that this terrible Lew Whetzel 
once encountered the Frontier Angel in the forest, 
and, for the first and only time in his life, broke his 
vow. In relating the incident afterward, he said 
that he felt as if he raised his rifle, one look from 
her eyes would have struck him dead. 

It was thus that the mysterious Frontier Angel 
was regarded by those who held communication 
with her; it was no wonder that Dingle felt some 
trepidation, and he hastened down, unbarred the 
massive gate, and saw her standing beside him. 

'' What news have you to-night ? he asked. 

I have much news ; but why have you remained 
at home so long ? ” 

'' I’ve no reason, I s’pose.” 

“ Then hasten to the woods again, for there is 
much for you to see.” 

Won’t you tell me the fuss? ” 

“ I know not it all, but the Shawnees and Wyan- 
dots are making great preparations for taking the 
war-path.” 

‘‘ Is their idee to come hyerabouts ? ” 

I cannot tell ; it may be, and it may be not.” 
Whar’ am they kickin’ up this muss ? ” 

‘‘At Piqua.” 


86 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


‘‘Yas; wal. I’ll pay them a visit. Anything 
more ? ” 

“ That is all. I will now depart.” 

Dingle unbarred the gate, allowed her to pass 
out, and after securing it, made his way back to the 
block-house again. As he passed out on the plat- 
form, Jenkins demanded: 

Who is that you was talking with ? ” 

“A gal that comes down to see me once in 
a while.” 

‘‘ An Injin?” 

“ A half-breed — splendid critter.” 

“ Jerusalem ! she looked purty. What in the name 
of all that’s human made she shoot that arrer at 
me?” 

“ To kill yer, in course.” 

‘‘To kill me! What did she want to kill me 
for? I^m sure I never done her any harm.” 

“ She thought you’d jist come out to show yerself 
and try and cut me out. It made her all-fired mad.” 

“ Did you tell her about it.” 

“Yas; but I can’t tell you what she said. I’m 
goin’ in to sleep now. Don’t whistle so loud, nor 
slap your hoofs down so, nor git to talkin’ how mean 
Dick Dingle is, or he might come out and make 
you shut up.” 

With these words, the ranger opened the door of 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 87 

the block-house and entered, leaving Jenkins com- 
pletely dumbfounded at what he had said. 

“ By George ! how did he know what I said ? I’ll 
bet that infernal In jin gal is down there yet, and 
waiting for a chance to shoot. I’ll kill her, if she 
tries it, just as sure as I live. She’ll wish she never 
knowed anything of Pete Jenkins.” 

But no attempt was made upon the sentinel’s life, 
and when the morning dawned, the forest and river 
wore their usual appearance. 

In the morning, Dingle imparted the message of 
the Frontier Angel to the commander of the post, 
and offered to visit the Piqua village and ascertain 
the meaning of their movements. 

“ If she says there is mischief afoot, you may de- 
pend that there is. Yes, Dingle, you had better go. 
Take who you please, find out what you can, and 
get back as soon as possible.” 

The visit of this strange being was only a night 
or two after the interview between Abbot and Peter- 
son, so that the latter had not yet started upon his 
hunt after the renegade McGable. Upon consulting 
with Dingle, it was argued between them that, as 
there was no need of hurrying in such a matter, they 
would defer their expedition until after their return 
from Piqua. The safety of the settlement was para- 
mount to all otherj, considerations.^ Be.sidfis, it was 


88 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


very probable that the renegade was in the village 
named, and they were just as likely to accomplish 
the object of both their journeys at the same time. 
The two rangers held a long consultation, and the 
conclusion they came to took all by surprise. It 
was that Peterson should visit the Shawnee town 
in Paint Creek valley, while Dingle, in company with 
the redoubtable Jenkins, would reconnoiter Piqua. 
There was wisdom in this plan certainly, but many 
thought it singular that the two should separate, 
when they had never been known to do such a thing 
before when in service. 

The Shawnees were the great enemy of the 
whites, and to them may be traced nearly all of the 
long and bloody wars on the frontier. They were a 
vindictive, revengeful, “ restless people, delighting 
in wars.’’ Their very name, as has been remarked, 
was a word of terror or of execration to the early 
settlers among the canebrakes of Kentucky or upon 
the rich bottoms of Ohio. 

When this country was discovered, the Shawnees 
occupied the southern part of Georgia and Florida. 
Here they, at last, became so obnoxious to the other 
Indians by their continual murders and robberies, 
that a combination of the most powerful tribes — the 
Choctaws, Cherokees, and Creeks, was effected, and 
perpetual, unceasing war was declared against them. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


89 

Finding the country too hot to hold them, the Shaw- 
nees emigrated north, settling on the Ohio and its 
tributaries. The Wyandots welcomed them, and 
they increased to a mighty and powerful nation, 
retaining their characteristic traits. From the com- 
mencement of the old French war, in 1755, down 
to the final struggle between Tecumseh and the 
whites, nearly sixty years after, they were contin- 
ually engaged in some murderous foray, interrupted 
only by a dozen years of quiet, succeeding the treaty 
of Wayne. 

Like all large Indian nations, the Shawnees were 
subdivided into tribes, and these subdivided into 
families. The names of but four of these tribes are 
now known: The Piqua, Kiskapocoke, Chillicothe, 
and Mequachake. Piqua, in the Indian tongue, 
means a man rising from the ashes, and there is a 
tradition among them, that it was thus this division 
originated. 

They had a large village at the head of Massie^s 
Creek, a short distance north of where Xenia now 
stands, and another named Piqua, on Mad River, a 
few miles below Springfield. Their principal head- 
quarters were in the valley of Paint creek and Sciota 
river. 

The simple preparations of the scouts were made, 
and it was agreed they should start in a few hours 
upon their perilous journey. 


90 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


CAPTER VIL 

THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 

Peterson^s destination being the Sciota valley, 
he left the settlement and proceeded eastward, up 
the Ohio, until the mouth of the Sciota was reached, 
when he prosecuted his journey in a northerly direc- 
tion, making it all on foot. Leaving him to 
continue his duty, we will follow the fortunes of the 
other two. 

Dingle had two reasons for taking Jenkins with 
him. The first was for his own good, and the second 
was for his own — that is the ranger’s — amusement. 
He counted on little difficulty in ascertaining all that 
he wished, and believed that his companion would 
be so tractable in his hands that little trouble need 
be apprehended from his erratic disposition. His 
plan was to proceed westward, following the course 
of the Ohio, until the mouth of the Little Miami 
was reached, up which he would proceed in a canoe. 
As he had often visited the same town, he took 
occasion, when upon one of his expeditions, to 
“ borrow ” an Indian canoe, as he expressed it, and 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


91 

concealing it at the mouth of this river, to be used 
for the purpose named. 

“ Confound it ! what did you want to take me 
along for? ’’ demanded Jenkins, spitefully, after they 
were fairly in the wood. 

“ Why, to scout around, and obsarve the pecoo- 
liarities of the Shawnees,’’ replied Dingle. 

‘‘ Yes, s'pose so ! darned if I don’t shoot every 
one I see ! ” 

‘‘ Good ! give us your paw on that, Jenkins, you’re 
some, after all.” 

“ After all what ? ” demanded the wrathful man, 
not at all relishing the eagerness with which the 
ranger took his threat. 

‘‘ After all the dodgin’ and sneakin’ you’ve done 
when the reds war around.” 

“ See here now ! ” exclaimed Jenkins, stepping in 
front of and confronting the ranger. “ I want to 
know what you mean by that? That’s a reflection 
upon my courage which I never intend to permit.” 

Dingle, concluding it best not to offend him at 
present, answered, “ I meant the time you fell down 
so flat when the Frontier Angel fired her arrer at 
you.” 

“ Do you know what made me do it, sir ? ” 

“Oh! yes — I mind me now, you had a fit just 
then.” 


92 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


“Well, sir, don’t let me hear anything more 
about that then; I have explained all about them 
fits, and you must remember.” 

“Wal, never mind, Jenkins, it won’t do to git 
them now, coz why, if you do, when you come to 
again, you’ll find you’ve cotched another kind of fits 
— wal, you will, ole feller.” 

“ Do you s’pose, Dick, they’ll watch us close ? ” 
asked Jenkins, in a tone so changed from his brag' 
gadocio style to that of earnest inquiry, that Dingle 
could not conceal a smile. 

“ Mighty clus, you’ll find out. Howsumever, ef 
you tend to your business and mind what I tell you, 
you’ll come out all right, I guess.” 

“ My gracious ! I wish we was only on our way 
back. I don’t like In jins no way you can fix it.” 

“ I don’t neither, so let’s pike ahead and hold in 
for a while.” 

The journey continued in silence. They were on 
the Ohio side of the river, having crossed it at the 
commencement of their expedition. Late in the 
afternoon they were obliged to swim a small stream 
that put in from the Ohio. This was accomplished 
easily, as both were excellent swimmers, Jenkins 
fully equal to the ranger. On the shore of this they 
halted, spent a few moments in eating a portion of 
the food they had brought with them. By this time 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


93 


darkness had settled over the forest, but the moon 
was quite strong, and they kept on for several hours. 
At the end of that time they reached a solitary 
block-house, standing on a clearing, where it was the 
intention to shortly commence a settlement. There 
was a small force stationed there by the governor 
of the territory some months previous. The sen- 
tinel was on the look-out and detected the approach 
of Dingle as soon as the latter became aware of the 
block-house. He was instantly challenged, but a 
word set the matter right, and in a moment one of 
the force descended, unbarred the gate, and joyfully 
welcomed him in. Lew Whetzel, to whom we have 
before referred, was in the block-house, and the 
meeting between him and Dingle was cordial on 
both sides. There were eight soldiers besides, all 
adepts in Indian warfare. The commander pro- 
duced his cups, poured out whisky, and none, save 
Jenkins, needed an invitation to drink. The latter 
was a perfect novice, and with wondering eyes 
followed the motions and actions of Dingle. The 
consequence was, before any one suspected it, he 
commenced nodding, and shortly dropped upon the 
floor. One of the men rolled him into the corner, 
where he slept until morning. 

Dingle, Whetzel, and several others kept up the 
conversation all through the night. They drank 


THE FRONTIER ANQE.'j. 


94 

enough to make each communicative, and related 
stories and anecdotes almost without end. Lew 
Whetzel gave that incident in his experience to 
which we have before alluded. At its conclusion, 
he sprang to his feet with a regular Shawnee yell. 

** And here is Lew Whetzel ! ready for a bear- 
fight, Indian hug, or a hair raise.’' 

As he uttered these words, he gave Jenkins a kick 
that thoroughly awakened him. 

“ Gracious alive ! what’s the matter ? ” exclaimed 
the latter, starting to his feet. 

‘‘Day has broke, and it’s time to be trampin’,” 
said Dingle. 

“ Yas,” added Whetzel ; “ and I must go up the 
river to see the boys.” 

The appearance of this Lewis Whetzel was most 
extraordinary. He was below the medium height, 
with a square massive breast, very broad shoulders, 
and arms as powerful as piston-rods. His face was 
nearly as dark as an Indian’s, and marked with the 
small-pox. His eyes were of the fiercest blackness 
imaginable, and there were few who could stand 
their terrible glance when angry. It is said that he 
never allowed his hair to be cut. At any rate, at the 
time mentioned, it was so long, that when allowed to 
flow unrestrained, it reached down below his knees. 

Dingle and Jenkins passed outside, and after a 


CJ'HE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


95 


hasty good-by, plunged resolutely into the forest. 
The range.r led the advance, in his usual cautious 
manner, ' proceeding rapidly, and yet so stealthily 
that their approach could not have been heard a 
dozer, feet distant, excepting now and then, when 
Jen^.cins caught his foot in some vine, and tumbled 
wi th a suppressed exclamation upon his hands and 
knees, or forgot himself so much as to undertake to 
commence a conversation. 

>■ The journey was continued without incident 
worthy of note until nightfall. Not an Indian or 
white man was encountered through the day. Just 
at dusk, they reached a river, which, as Dingle in- 
formed Jenkins, was the Little Miami. 

“ My gracious ! has that got to be swam, too ? ” 
asked the latter, in astonishment. 

No ! we’ll row over, I guess.” 

“ Row over ? how can we do that ? ” 

Don’t ax too many questions and you’ll see.” 

With this, Dingle proceeded some distance up- 
stream, and then halted before a large, tangled mass 
of undergrowth. Here he stooped down, and pulled 
out a small birchen canoe, almost as light as paper. 
An Indian’s paddle lay beside it, which he instructed 
Jenkins to bring forth. As he dropped the boat in 
the river, it danced as uneasily and buoyantly as an 
eggshell. 


THE FRONTIER 


“Where under the sun did you g\ t t > -ling?” 
asked Jenkins. 

“ That belongs to the Frontier Angc - . i . . one 

we used to go sparking in when we v- m- ’’ 
“Pshaw, Dick, you’re joking,” rep^’. ns, 

incredulously. 

“I should think you knowed enough i 


know that I never joke when I’m scoutin^ r. > .. 
jump in while I give it a shove.” ^ 

Now if any of our readers have ever s< ; 

Indian canoe, they will detect at once the mi 
ous object of Dingle in asking his compan. ^ ' 
“jump into” this one. It is an impossibilav ■’'* 
person who does not understand them, to sp .'i 
in without going overboard. It is precisely sim'^^a; 
to putting on a pair of skates for the first tin> 
Unless you have tried it before, and know how to d^ 
it, you are sure to be deceived. But Jenkins had no 
suspicions, judging from the last remark of Dingle 
that he was perfectly serious. 

So he made a spring, struck the thing near the 
bow, and it shot like a bolt backward into the shore, 
and he disappeared with a loud splash beneath the 
surface of the water. 

“ Blast that boat ! what made it do that ? ” he 
spluttered, scrambling into shore again. 

“ You’re a smart one ! ” remarked Dingle, without 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


99 

moment he wished. About noon he opened his 
eyes, arose to the sitting position, gave Jenkins a 
kick, and ordered him to make ready to start. After 
a hearty meal upon the last of the venison they had 
brought with them, they emerged from their resting- 
place, and once more resumed their journey. 

As they gradually approached the neighborhood 
of the Indian settlement, Dingle became more and 
more cautious in his movements, until Jenkins was 
in a perf^ect tremor of apprehension. 

Don^t fall behind ! ” admonished the ranger, 
unmercifully. 

gracious, I won’t! Every time you stop, I 
bump against you. I’ve mashed my nose already.” 

‘‘ Never mind ; we’re gettin’ nigher every minute.” 

*^I know we are, and that’s what troubles me so 
much. If we were only going the other way, I 
wouldn’t mind it so much.” 

Several times they came upon Indian trails, 
some of which were so fresh that Dingle made sev- 
eral detours, painfully tedious to Jenkins, who every 
minute was getting into a feverish state. Before 
dark, they ascended a sort of ridge, which seemed 
the boundary of a valley on the left. Jenkins 
followed his guide so closely, that he hardly took 
his eyes off of him, much less did he know where 
he was going. He saw they were ascending a rising 


100 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


ground, and that, after about an hour’s labor, he 
came to a halt. 

Take a look down there ! ” whispered Din- 
gle, parting the bushes in front of him. Jenkins 
followed the direction of his finger, and saw, spread 
out before him, in the valley below, the entire Indian 
village. 

“ My gracious ! don’t that look funny ! ” he ex- 
claimed. 

“ It don’t strike me as rather funny, when you 
understand what they’re making all that fuss for.” 

“ Not for us, you don’t mean.” 

‘‘ Yes, for us.” 

“ Let’s be gettin’ out of here, then.” 

No, I don’t mean for us here, but for the settle- 
ment — the block-house.” 

“ Oh ! I thought you meant they were coming 
here.” 

It was evident to any eye, that the savages below 
them were making preparations for some hostile 
expedition. Dingle judged it was against their 
own village from what the Frontier Angel had said. 
Most of the warriors were collected upon a large 
open space near one end of the village. Here sev- 
eral of their orators — stump speakers is a better 
term — were constantly haranguing them. The ex- 
cited gesticulation, the bobbing of the head, and 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


lor 


now and then a word could be heard by our two 
friends in concealment. The men were arrayed in 
the gaudy hideousness of war-paint, and to all ap- 
pearances hugely delighted with the oratory that 
greeted their ears. Men were continually arriving 
and departing, sometimes nearly a score passing 
into the wood, and then reappearing in a short time 
again. Every second several shouts or yells pierced 
the air. The whole village was in commotion, and 
Dingle could as well have departed at once with the 
information that the Shawnees were again taking 
the war-path, and the settlement was most probably 
the object of their fury. But he determined to 
know more before he went back. 

As it was getting darker, and the shrubbery and 
undergrowth were so dense as to afford a sure con- 
cealment in spite of the moon, which rose at a late 
hour, he felt no hesitation at making a much nearer 
approach. 

In a short time they were within a hundred yards 
of the upper end. Here they both nestled down, 
and waited some time before making a further 
movement. 

Keep powerful quiet, while I look around ! ’’ 
admonished Dingle, crouching down and com- 
mencing to move off in the darkness. 

“ Here, hold on a minute,” whispered Jenkins^ 


102 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


eagerly catching the skirt of his hunting-dress; 
** how long are you going to be gone ? ” 

I don^t know— sh ! ” 

The footsteps of some one were now heard, break- 
ing through the bushes. Dingle and Jenkins bent 
low, and in a moment discerned, looming up against 
the light in the village, the dark form of an Indian. 

By gracious ! he's coming right onto us. 
Where's my gun ? " 

Shut up, or ril break it over your head," 
replied Dingle. 

The hunter loosened his knife in his belt, for an 
encounter seemed unavoidable. The Indian came 
right straight ahead, in a line toward them; but 
when within ten feet, unconsciously to himself 
perhaps, he turned to the left and passed on, thus 
escaping a collision and his own doom at the same 
time. 

“ Now don't stir from hyer till I come back," 
whispered Dingle, again. 

“ Just wait a minute, Dick ; I want to ask a ques- 
tion or two." 

Spit them out, quick then 1 " 

“ How long are you going to be gone ? " 

“ P'r'aps an hour or two." 

** What must I do all that time ? " 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


103 

“ Why, lay still — don't budge an inch, ’cept you 
want to lose your ha'r." 

‘*Oh! I don't want to lose it. S'pose the In jins 
come poking round here, what's to be done then ? " 

“ Keep docile, and like as not they won't see you ; 
but if they does, why, jump up, give 'em a lunge 
with your knife, and put to the woods. You can 
run fast 'nough to give 'em the slip. In course, 
you'll have to make some tall dodgin’ to do it, but I 
guess you are able.” 

I’ll try it, Dick, though I’d much rather you’d 
stay.” 

“ I can't — so don’t bother me agin.” 

With this, Dingle moved away as silently as a 
snake, and disappeared instantly. He made his way 
toward the opposite side of the village. It was not 
his intention to proceed thus far at first, but circum- 
stances compelled him. It seemed impossible to gain 
the view he wished. At every point, some obstruc- 
tion presented itself. The Indians, too, were so con- 
tinually passing through the wood, that discovery 
sometimes appeared inevitable. They made their 
appearance so suddenly, that they were not seen until 
almost upon him, and then it was only by the most 
labored caution that they could be avoided. Several 
times, indeed, had it come to that point, that he 


104 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


clutched his knife, and stooped to spring; but kind 
fortune still screened him. 

Dingle had been absent about a couple of hours, 
and had reached a spot from which he believed he 
could obtain all the information he wished, when he 
was startled by the report of a rifle, and a series of 
yells from the quarter in which he had left Jenkins ! 
He heard the rush of feet through the bushes and 
the signals of alarm all about him. 

That cussed fool has got himself into a fix. 
I’ll swear ! ” muttered the ranger retreating several 
yards, so as to be concealed by the wood, and hurry- 
ing around toward the spot in which he had left him. 
He reached it in a few minutes, but all signs of com- 
motion had ceased. An extraordinary stillness 
reigned over the village. He signaled for Jenkins, 
but no answer was returned. He found, at last, the 
precise spot in which he had left him. But he was 
gone, most certainly. 

Yas, the fool’s in a fix, sure. Sarved him right. 
He’ll larn sunkthin’ afore he gets back to the settle- 
ment again.” 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


105 


CHAPTER VIII. 

MAN IN TROUBLE. 

Dingle waited in the wood until morning, search- 
ing and signaling for Jenkins, but without success. 
He hoped at first that he had made his escape; but 
he was compelled, after carefully watching the 
village for a long time, to the belief that he had 
been captured. In fact, it was a certainty with the 
ranger. He understood the actions of the Shawnees 
well enough to be satisfied upon that point. 

‘‘ Now, Dingle, what’s to be done ? ” queried the 
ranger meditatively. He’s in their claws — that’s 
a sure case, and it don’t look right for you to leave 
him thar. But jest hold on a minute. The great 
moral question is this : which ar’ to be saved — him or 
the whole settlements ? Ef I stay h’yer, pokin’ round 
for him, like as not. I’ll get cotched myself — no, I 
won’t either, for Dick Dingle don’t get that thing 
done to him. The reds ar’ goin’ on a ha’r raise, 
that’s sure; and they’ll leave Jenkins till they come 
back afore they roast him. Consequently, he’ll have 


Io6 the frontier angel. 

time to look round and git acquainted with his 
friends, and p^r’aps make a bargain to let him off on 
a visit. No, Dingle, you must make tracks fur home 
powerful fast.” 

This decision arrived at, the ranger lost no time 
in putting it into execution. He knew he could not 
get much start of his enemies; and, although they 
would be armed at the settlement, yet it was imper- 
atively necessary they should have more definite 
knowledge of the intended assault. Slinging his 
rifle over his shoulder, he turned his face to the 
south and plunged into the forest. 

In the meantime Peter Jenkins had managed to 
fall into an unpleasant predicament. 

Upon the departure of Dingle, he made up his 
mind to obey every letter of his instructions. Ac- 
cordingly, he squeezed himself into the smallest 
space possible, and curled obediently up on the 
ground. He lay thus perhaps a half-hour, when he 
fell sound asleep. This was unintentional on his 
part ; but the fatigue of the expedition, and the time 
he had passed, without slumber, were too much for 
him, and he finally succumbed. 

He would have slept, in all probability, until the 
return of Dingle, had it not been for a purely 
accidental circumstance. As his slumbers grew 
more heavy, he gave two or three jerks, and finally 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


107 

Straightened out upon his back. In doing this, he 
naturally threw his hands backward, and by the 
merest accident in the world, struck a toad that sat 
blinking a foot or two distant. The creature made 
a startled leap and plumped down square in his face, 
but immediately sprang off again. It, however, 
seemed to awaken Jenkins, who rose to the sitting 
position, and entirely unmindful of where he was, 
commenced talking, in a mumbling tone, to him- 
self. 

“ Like to know who that feller was that hit me in 
the face. Liked to knocked me out of bed; s’pose 
it was Dingle, though — just like him — ^makes my 
nose feel awful cold. Queer a feller can't sleep 
when he wants to— all-fired mean to 'sturb a per- 
son that way. Lay over on your own side, Dick. 
Hello! he ain't here! Look at these bushes! — 
Thunderation ! where am I ? " 

He stared bewilderingly about him. Gradually a 
recollection of his situation came to him. And then 
he was filled with apprehension lest he had betrayed 
himself. He listened carefully for a few minutes, 
but hearing nothing, judged that matters were all 
right ; and, as he was excessively sleepy, he dropped 
languidly back again, and was falling rapidly into a 
state of unconsciousness, when he was waked again. 

The fact was he had been overheard by a couple of 


I08 the frontier angel. 

brawny Shawnees who, at that moment, were passing 
within a few feet of him. They dropped noiselessly 
to the earth, and commenced making their way to- 
ward him, as he fell back so unconsciously. 

In the meantime, one of those little, active, prying 
dogs, that are always bobbing around an Indian 
village, made the same discovery. He ran fearlessly 
up to the prostrate man, poked his cold nose against 
his cheek, and gave a loud bark that electrized 
Jenkins completely. Remembering the parting 
admonition of Dingle, to fire and run,” in case of 
discovery, he seized his gun, blazed away at the 
dog, and turned on his heel. 

Even then he might have effected his escape, had 
it not been for the dog mentioned. The Indians 
suspecting he was a scout, were taken all aback by 
the unexpected manner in which he acted, and 
hesitated so long before following, that, as we said, 
he might have escaped, had it not been for the dog. 
The creature was unhurt by his shot, and with a yelp 
of alarm, sprang in front of him. Jenkins was too 
confused to notice him, the dog got entangled 
between his legs, and he pitched headlong to the 
ground. Before he could rise the Indians were 
upon him, and yelling with exultation. 

‘‘We kill — if fight — no run,” muttered one in 
broken English. 



i 


THE FRONTIER ANQEL. 


Ill 


“Jerusalem! I won’t run — don’t kill me. I 
won’t run at least with you two fellers on my back. 
Don’t kill me ! ” 

“ Stand up — quick 1 ” 

“ Yes, I will — don’t kill me I ” 

One of the savages had already secured his rifle; 
and, as he arose, one stood on either side of him 
and took a firm hold of his arms. By this time 
there were a score of other savages around, all danc- 
ing, shouting, and yelling ; and in the midst of them 
our friend Jenkins was marched into the center of 
the Indian village. 

Immediately a score of Shawnees scattered into 
the wood, to ascertain whether there were any more 
whites lurking in the vicinity, while Jenkins was 
hurried into a lodge, thrown upon his face, his hands 
tied securely behind him, and his feet locked as 
tightly together, as if they had been screwed in a 
vice. 

“ Consarn it ! what’s the use in serving a feller 
that way? I told you I wouldn’t run away, and you 
shouldn’t doubt my word.” 

Some eight or nine remained to guard, but no 
one seemed disposed to heed his request. 

“ You ugly old heathen, standing there by the door, 
grinning at me, just loosen these cords, will you? ” 
said Jenkins. The Indian, still paying no attention 


II2 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


to his entreaties, Jenkins supposed he did not under- 
stand the English language; and he repeated his 
request in a louder tone, as though that would assist 
his understanding. But with no better effect. I 
don’t want the cords loosened — wouldn’t have them 
untied if you wanted to do it,” he added, sullenly. 

As his captors still evinced no desire to do any- 
thing more than watch him, he resigned himself 
sullenly to his fate, and ceased speaking. 

The night wore slowly away without any notice- 
able change taking place in his condition. Sleep, 
under the existing circumstances, was out of the 
question, and Jenkins contented himself — if the ex- 
pression is allowable — with maintaining a moody 
silence, varied now and then by a gratuitous insult 
to those around, which, luckily for him, they failed 
to comprehend. 

While this sleepless guard was being kept upon 
our unfortunate friend, there was another tribunal, 
as sleepless and vastly more important to him. In 
the chieftain’s lodge was assembled half a hundred 
warriors, debating the matter of life or death. It 
could be hardly said there was a debate upon that 
either; for all agreed that their victim should die — 
agreed that he should not only die, but be burned at 
the stake! 

They were considering only when this should be 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


II3 

done. It could not be expected there would be a 
single dissenting voice as to his fate, and there was 
none. But the question was whether the war-ex- 
pedition should be deferred by consummating the 
torture, or whether it should be left over until they 
returned. It was their intention to start upon the 
morrow for the settlement which we have so often 
referred to; and rightly fearing that every hour of 
delay was a day’s gain to their intended victims, it 
was at last decided that Jenkins should be kept until 
their return, when he should suffer the awful torture 
of death by fire. The;, knew their passions would 
be inflamed to that >itcl: chat the agonies of their 
prisoner’s torment would be the most exquisite 
pleasure they could enjoy. 

Most fortunate, indeed, for Jenkins was it that the 
renegade was not present at that council. Had he 
been, he never would have seen the light of another 
morning; for he had learned long before that no 
white prisoner was sure to them until he had been 
a victim to their vengeance. The renegade had left 
only a day or two before for the Indian towns in the 
Sciota valley, and consequently knew nothing of 
Jenkins’ capture. 

When the morning dawned, there was great com- 
motion throughout the village. The final prepara- 
tions were made for the departure of the war-party. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


1 14 

Jenkins heard the confusion and clamor around 
him, but he was in no mood to care what they were 
doing. A sort of stolid indifference had succeeded 
to the excessive fear he had at first evinced. 

Darnation ! I don't care what they do ! They 
can burn me and eat me, if they want to ! Let 'em 
blaze away 1 " 

Shortly after daybreak, the war-party departed. 
About a dozen men remained behind to guard the 
village, and see that no attempt was made to free the 
prisoner, while a whole host of squaws and children 
raised bedlam. The lodge in which Jenkins was 
confined was completely beset by them. At first 
his guards allowed them to rush in and torment him 
in their characteristic manner — such as pulling his 
hair, pinching, and striking him with sticks. Finally 
his patience became exhausted. 

“ By thunder ! if you don't take these things off 
I'll kill every one of them ! " he exclaimed, furiously 
wriggling and tugging at his bonds. 

The Indians enjoyed the sport hugely, especially 
the impotent wrath he displayed. They made no 
atttempt to restrain the excited multitude, until they 
became so numerous and boisterous, that for their 
own convenience, they cleared the lodge of the tor- 
mentors. 

‘‘You'd better done that just then," said the 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


II5 

prisoner. ** I was just getting ready to knock some 
of their brains out.” 

At noon he was given some meat and drink, and 
he ate ravenously, for his situation seemed to have 
little effect upon his appetite. His usual fear and 
subsequent indifference had now given way to a 
perfect recklessness. Goaded to madness, he cared 
not a straw what he did. He swore within himself 
that he would make his escape before morning, 
though how to effect it wasn^t plain even to himself. 

His guard maintained their sullen watch until 
dark, when the clamorous crowd again commenced 
pressing around. They were restrained from enter- 
ing, but they continued yelling and pressing against 
the lodge till, all at once, the side gave way, and fell 
inward. Those pressing against it were so numer- 
ous that they poured irresistibly forward, piling 
in a mass upon Jenkins, kicking and struggling to 
free themselves, and making the confusion perfectly 
horrid by their yells. To make the matter still 
worse, the sudden incoming of the multitude had 
extinguished the burning torches, so that all was in 
total darkness. 

Jenkins, feeling the mass upon him, became doubly 
enraged and made furious efforts to free himself. 
But the cords were too firm, and he finally gave up 
in despair. 


Il5 THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 

Immediately he felt some one fingering around 
him, ; and to his inexpressible astonishment found the 
cords at his feet and hands cut, and he was now 
perfectly free. He lost no time in takng advan- 
tage of this providential intercourse of some one. 
Springing to his feet, he turned to make a dash 
through the open side of the lodge. At that mo- 
ment a soft hand touched his, and some one, pulling 
his head downward, whispered eagerly in his ear: 

“ Don’t stop ! run as fast as you can ! ” 

You may bet I’ll do that,” he replied, although 
he scarcely heard his own voice in the deafening 
uproar around him. 

Of course, in the darkness, it was impossible to 
distinguish the prisoner. When the building crashed 
inward, two or three savages hurried off for torches, 
while several more sprang to the opening to inter- 
cept his flight, should he attempt it. As they knew 
his bonds were too firm to be broken, they had lit- 
tle fear of this, but adopted these precautions in 
obedience to their cautious instincts. But Jenkins 
avoided them all. He hiade a spring outward, a 
literal “ leap in the dark,” ran a short distance in a 
straight line, until, as might be expected, he brought 
up all standing against a lodge that happened to be 
in his way. There were none inside, for the tumult 
in the village had drawn them out, and he suffered 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


1 17 

no injury, except a few scratches. Without stop- 
ping to ascertain the damages, he made an abrupt 
turn to the left, and hurrying onward, found him- 
self, in a few seconds, clear of the town and in the 
dark wood. 

The lights were soon recovered and brought to the 
lodge from which he had fled. Held in the entrance, 
they revealed a swarm of dark, struggling bodies, 
piled pell-mell upon each other. Under the light 
of the smoking torches, these regained their feet 
in an incredible short space of time. Then to the 
unutterable astonishment of the Shawnees, it was 
found that the prisoner had escaped. 

The Indians stood completely dumbfounded for a 
moment, totally unable to realize that such was the 
case. But a Shawnee Indian rarely gives way to his 
emotions, and when he does, it does not last long. A 
long, wild, lengthened howl conveyed the dismal 
intelligence that the white man had fled to the woods. 

Now the pursuit and search commenced. Lights 
were gleaming and flitting through the trees, like 
frantic fire-flies, and the eager savages were darting 
and yelling in every direction. Signals were given 
and returned, and all imaginable artifices adopted. 

But a pursuit, under such disadvantages, could 
hardly be expected to be successful. And it did not 
prove so in this case. Jenkins knew well how to 


Il8 THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 

use his legs, especially when his life depended upon 
them ; and the manner in which he flew through the 
forest would have made an ordinary Indian despair 
at once. He had nearly the entire night before him, 
and he hardly halted for breathing time until morn- 
ing. The moon arose toward midnight, and so lit 
up the wood that it would have been exceedingly 
dangerous for him had his pursuers been anywhere 
in the vicinity. But they were not, and he had it all 
to himself. 

At morning he was so exhausted that he threw 
himself upon the ground, at the roots of a fallen 
tree, and slept heavily. Slept until near the middle 
of the afternoon, and then he would not have 
awakened, had not a visitor helped him to recall his 
wits. He opened his eyes and started with un- 
bounded astonishment at seeing before him that 
mysterious being known as the Frontier Angel. She 
stood a few feet away, surveying him with a look of 
mild joy, and holding in her right hand a rifle which 
he instantly recognized as his own. 

“ So you made your escape, did you ? ” she re- 
marked, seeing that he said nothing. 

“ Hello ! how are you ? Glad to see you. How^s 
your folks? Been well?^^ asked Jenkins, suddenly 
thinking he had been remiss in his usual politeness. 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


119 

These questions were accompanied by a profound 
bow and scrape of his foot upon the earth. 

The being before him paid no heed to these ’ 
demonstrations, but repeated her remark : 

** So you made your escape, did you ? 

** Very well, I thank you, how's your health? ” 
“You have escaped, I say?" 

“ Oh ! yes, a pleasant day." 

The personage paused and looked at him in aston- 
ishment. The truth of the matter was, Jenkins was 
so confused that he did not comprehend a single 
remark made by her. He continued bowing and 
scraping and speaking incoherently until, at last, his 
senses returned. The Frontier Angel merely gazed 
at him with a wondering expression, in which not a 
particle of mirth could be seen. Waiting a few 
moments, she once more repeated her remark. 

“Oh — you spoke of escape, did you? Yes, I 
managed to get away myself/^ 

“ Were you not bound? " 

“ Oh, yes ; with tremendous big cords." 

“ How did you free yourself of them ? " 

“ Broke them all by my giant strength, ma'm," he 
replied, valiantly. 

“ You are mistaken, sir." 

“ Oh ! was it you that cut them when we was in the 
muss?" he asked, eagerly. 


120 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


I cut them and admonished you to fly. You 
should not take the credit yourself/^ mildly replied 
the visitor. 

“ I didn’t know as you done it, or I wouldn’t said 
so,” said Jenkins, somewhat crestfallen at being so 
caught. 

“ How came you to be captured ? ” she continued, 
standing in front of him, and keeping her dark eyes 
fixed upon him. 

“ Overpowered by main force ! I’d like to see the 
man that could withstand forty-three Shawnee 
Indians.” 

“ Were there that many who assailed you? ” 

“Well, I couldn’t say positively now — perhaps 
more or less. To speak within bounds, we’ll call it 
forty-two.” 

“ And where is he who was with you ? ” 

“ Who ? — Dick Dingle ? He wouldn’t stay and 
fight, but run and left me behind to meet all the 
danger.” 

' “ You were scouts, then, sent to reconnoiter the 
Indians, I suppose. In doing so, you were captured 
by your enemies, while your companion escaped. 
But, thanks to the great Ruler above, you were also 
delivered from death. Your friend, from what I 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


121 


know of him, leads me to the belief that he gained 
enough knowledge of the Indians to answer all pur- 
poses. And he will be able to give all information 
to the settlements which I was unable to give/’ 

“ S’pect so. Leastways I know, when I get home, 
I’ll be able to give our settlement a great deal of 
information that they never knowed or dreamt on 
before.” 

“ I have followed your trail, my friend, to come 
up with you and find out what I have just learned. 
I rejoice to learn that it has turned out thus. And 
now I will bid you good-by. Do not delay, for, al- 
though you are a great way from the Indian town, 
there may be many and swift pursuers upon your 
trail.” 

‘^Say! hold on a minute!” called out Jenkins, 
springing toward her, first reaching out his hand, 
and then suddenly withdrawing it, as he remembered 
what he had heard said would be the consequences 
of such an act. 

‘‘ What do you want ? ” she asked, turning round 
and facing him. 

Now, the truth of the matter was, Jenkins had 
fallen desperately in love with this singular 
personage. And, all things considered, it could not 


122 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


be wondered at. Arrayed in her fantastic Indian 
dress, her beauty was certainly wild and wonderful. 
Gay, painted eagle and porcupine quills formed a 
fiery head-dress, which contrasted well with the long, 
luxuriant hair of jetty blackness, that rolled unre- 
strained down her shoulders. The face was small 
and a delicate oval, the eyelashes long and black, 
the nose thin and small, and the teeth of pearly 
pureness. Viewed from the side, the profile was 
perfectly straight from the upper part of the fore- 
head to the base of the nose, from which point it 
slightly retreated to the chin. The eyes were dark, 
and when fixed upon a person, wore a meek, mild ex- 
pression ; at other times they fairly blazed with fire. 
A dress of dazzling colors reached from- the shoulders 
to the ankles, and was confined at the waist by a 
band of gleaming red. The feet were encased in 
small, ornamented moccasins which displayed the 
symmetrical limbs to advantage. Several rows of 
wampum were hung around the neck and waist, and 
the whole dress was such as an Indian chief would 
put upon his princess. 

When she turned so abruptly and faced Jenkins, 
he was considerably disconcerted. Upon any other 
occasion, he would have hesitated and stammered 



** The Frontier Angel gazed calmly on him a moment.” 





THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


125 


much, before he would have come to the point ; but, 
he well knew there were but a few minutes left him, 
and he said : 

“ I just want to speak a word with you. I s’pose 
you know Dick Dingle, don't you? that feller that 
left me so cowardly ? " 

Yes," she replied, without changing a feature or 
removing her gaze from him. 

“ Well, I was just going to say — that is — I 
wouldn't have anything to do with him. He is an 
awful mean man ; I wouldn't speak to him." 

‘‘ Why ? " was the same quiet question. 

“ Oh ! ’cause he's so everlastingly mean. Dar- 
nation ! haven’t I told you a thousand times ? How 
many more times are you going to ask me ? " 

“ Is that all?" 

- Yes— no— hold on ! " 

“ What else do you wish ? " 

“ I want to know if — if — if you don't like him, do 
you now?" suddenly broke forth Jenkins. 

The maiden began acting strangely. Her eyes 
brightened, her lips quivered, and she seemed striv- 
ing to say something. She controlled her emotion 
in a moment, and sweeping her hand over her eyes, 
looked calmly at her questioner, but without deigning 
a reply. 

‘‘ Don't you — don't you — don’t you love me now? 


126 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


I do you 1 ” besought our friend, going down on his 
knees in true, sentimental style. 

The Frontier Angel gazed calmly on him a mo- 
ment, then raised her eyes, turned on her heel, and 
disappeared in the forest. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


127 


CHAPTER IX. 

PETER JENKINS — A COUPLE OF SPEECHES. 

CoNSARN her, I don’t care nothin’ for her. I 
was just fooling; I only got down to see where she 
had put my rifle. Wonder where she got it from! 
She’s awful ugly. S’pect Dingle has been telling 
her some lies about me. By gracious! if I’d only 
thought about her shooting that arrer at me, she’d 
have cotched it. Wonder if it would have killed 
a feller if he’d touched her! I wouldn’t risk it, no 
how. She is purty — somewhat. Never mind, I 
don’t care, though I should like to know who she is. 
It’s time I was tramping home, or the folks will 
begin to worry about me ! ” 

Soliloquizing thus, Jenkins took his rifle, which he 
saw was still loaded, and once more turned his face 
homeward. Let us precede his arrival at the settle- 


ment. 


128 


THB FRONTIER ANGEL. 


Dingle, upon starting, after he deemed it useless 
to wait for Jenkins, had made all haste through the 
wood, and proceeded much faster than the war-party 
which started the next day. Nothing occurred to 
interrupt his journey, and in due time he made his 
appearance before the block-house. He was joy- 
fully welcomed back by all. The fate of Jenkins 
was sincerely regretted by every one, but under the 
circumstances it could not be helped. He was 
known to all, and although from his suspected 
cowardice he commanded little respect, his loss was 
none the less mourned. 

“ They’re paintin’ and greasin’ themselves, so that 
they can slip around easy like, and they’re just ready 
to start agin some settlement. More than that, boys, 
they’ve started afore now, and their faces are turned 
this way and you’ve jest got time to git ready to 
invite ’em in.” 

“ How many ? ” inquired the commander of the 
post. 

Can’t tell, but a powerful heap. Howsumever 
there ain’t more than we can give ' Hail Columbia.’* 
I don’t think there’ll be any Shawnees except from 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


129 

the upper town on Mad river. The imps in the 
other towns have got enough other deviltry to attend 
to, and I s’pect this is a kinder independent affair 
for the Piqua skunks.’^ 

The news of Dingle, as might be expected, occa- 
sioned the greatest excitement throughout the little 
encampment. The settlers, with compressed and 
silent lips, commenced moving the most valuable 
part of their furniture into the block-house, while the 
women, ^'whispering with white lips,” moved hur- 
riedly about, uttering their supplications continually. 

As for the men in the block-house, they were in 
the highest of spirits. It had been a long time since 
anything had occurred to break the monotony of 
their life, and they hailed with delight the prospect 
of storms ahead. When one of the men became so 
boisterous, that the commander endeavored to check 
him, by telling him that the fight would probably 
be a desperate and bloody one, the fellow actually 
sprang off his feet, swung his hat over his head, and 
shouted, ** Glory ! ” 

Peterson had returned the day before Dingle, but 
without any news to alarm the settlement. The 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


130 

Indians in the Sciota valley were as quiet as usual, 
and there was no evidence to show that they intended 
a hostile expedition. The attack, as said by Dingle, 
and also by the Frontier Angel, was most probably 
contemplated by those at the Piqua town alone. 

After most of the preparations had been completed, 
Abbot called Dingle aside, and asked him whether 
he had learned anything of McGable. 

“ He wasn’t in that village,” he replied. 

I suppose you are sure of it.” ' 

“Yes, for I surrounded the village two or three 
times, and if he’d have been thar’, I’d seen him. I 
seen the chiefs, and could have shot any reds I’d 
been asked to.” 

“ Peterson says he is not in the towns either, which 
he visited, for he examined each most thoroughly. 
How can it be ? Where is he ? ” 

“ I’ve found out that he is at the village at the 
head of the Little Miami most of the time. Thar’s 
where he is now, you may bet a considerable.” 

“Do you suppose he will be with the attacking 
Indians ? ” 

“ P’r’aps so, though it can’t be told for a startin 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


I3I 

thing. I s’pose youM like to know where me and 
Jim are going to catch him. You needn’t think 
we’re going to give it up. We ain’t, ’cause we’ve 
set our hearts on it ; and as soon as these reds as ar’ 
cornin’ here get a little taste of us, the thing’s going 
to be done. ’Cause why? Dick Dingle and Jim 
Peterson has said so.” 

“ I hope you will learn of the fate of poor Marian, 
for I believe her mother will not live three months 
longer if you do not. When she finds out for cer- 
tain, that her child is dead, and gone to her rest, she 
may bear up under this great affliction.” 

Hold still a minute,” said Dingle, as if a sudden 
thought had struck him. “ Now there’s Frontier 
Angel; she knows all about the In jin affairs, and I 
shouldn’t wonder ef she could tell you somethin’ 
about her. Freeze me to death, why didn’t I think 
of it? I know she can.” 

Frontier Angel, who is she? I have heard her 
spoken of as an Indian maiden, of whom nothing is 
known except that she is one of the best friends the 
settlers ever had.” 

“ So she is — so she is ; ef it hadn’t been for her 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


132 

two or three times, thar’ would have been some big 
ha’r raising done by the reds. She finds out nearly 
ail their deviltry, and she's bound to let the whites 
know it." 

“ Do you know where she is now ? " 

“ Tellin' the settlements to keep their eyes peeled, 
or maybe she’s gone up to Heaven a little while. 
You needn’t laugh, for she’s a sperit — she’s an angel, 
sure. Lew Whetzel says so, and I knov/ she is, 
too.’’ 

“ Why do you suppose she is such a being ? ’’ 

She’s jest like one. She’s as purty and as good. 
No one knows whar’s she has come from, or whar’ 
she goes to. She is allers alone, and goes about in 
the night. She ain’t afeared of nothin’, while every- 
thing is afeared of her.’’ 

“ How are you going to get, then, the information 
of which you speak ? ’’ 

Just ax her the next time I see her. She knows 
me, and we’ve often talked together. She come and 
told me the other night ’bout the reds cornin’ down 
this way, and said I must go up and look ’round." 

“Well, Dingle, find out what you can; I’ve no 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


133 

doubt you will. Perhaps it is time we separated, as 
there is enough for all to do. Mansfield, I believe, 
wishes to speak with you. Ah! here he comes.” 

Mansfield approached. His inquiries at first were 
the same as Abbot’s, and receiving the same answers, 
he continued: 

** How soon, Dingle, do you suppose the attack 
will be made? ” 

To-night, sir.” 

“ So Peterson said, and I suppose you must be 
right. You have no fears of the result ? ” 

“ No, sir ; the Shawnees always attack in the night- 
time. I understand their capers. Ef it wa’n’t for 
Frontier Angel, there would be a hard scratch, for 
we wouldn’t have been fixed up so snug for ’em. I 
shouldn’t wonder if thar’ wa’n’t much fight after all, 
when they find how things is.” 

‘‘If they are to attack to-night, they cannot be far 
off?” 

“ No ; they ain’t many miles out of the way. It’s 
now ’bout noon. They’ll send thar’ scouts ahead, 
and when the news reaches them that they are 
anxiously expected, they’ll hurry up and git along 
afore dark.” 


134 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


‘‘ What will be their object in doing that? ” 

“ You’ll see ; they’ll hoot and yell, and make 
speeches to scare us, and make believe there’s a heap 
of ’em. They’ll order us to surrender, or they’ll 
blow us to flinders. You’ll larn sunkthin’, you will. 
Freeze me to death, if you don’t.” 

The afternoon gradually wore away, and the 
words of Dingle were found to be true. Vigilant 
sentinels were watching every point in the wood, 
and, at last, they discovered several Indians recon- 
noitering them. Every inhabitant was gathered into 
the block-house. All the men fully armed and 
anxious for the affray. Dingle and Peterson volun- 
teered to enter the wood and spy out the movements 
and intentions of their enemies; but the commander 
would not permit it. He believed they could not 
escape being drawn into ambush, by the outlying 
scouts. Besides, he could not see what good could 
result from such an attempt. He peremptorily for- 
bade any man recklessly exposing himself, or to 
attempt to execute any undertaking without orders. 

Near the middle of the afternoon, some six or 
seven Indians were continually seen, flitting from 
tree to tree, and approaching the settlement as nigh 
as they dared. They seemed to make no attempt to 
conceal themselves, and often boldly exposed them- 
selves upon the edge of the clearing. They viewed 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


135 


the settlement from every point possible for them to 
reach, and could not avoid the discovery that the 
whites were abundantly prepared for the assault. 

Growing bolder and bolder, at the continued 
silence within the block-house, one of the Indians 
strode fearlessly out into the clearing, and stepping 
upon a large stump, shook his hand in a warning 
manner toward it. That instant there was the sharp 
crack of a rifle, the Indian made a hurried jump 
from the stump and hobbled away into the wood. 
As he did so he could not help hearing the loud 
laugh that greeted his exit. 

“ Guess he run a splinter in his foot ! ” remarked 
Peterson, who had fired the shot. 

“ Forgot sunkthin', I guess,” added Dingle. 
“ Hello ! the reds have come ! 

Others were now visible, and the number increas- 
ing, the wood appeared to swarm with them. They 
passed and repassed, and finally the majority ap- 
peared upon the edge of the clearing. Here they 
remained stationary a moment, and then entered the 
wood again. 

Heavens ! there are five hundred of them ! ” ex- 
claimed Mansfield, in consternation. 

“ Git out ! ” laughed Peterson ; '' don’t you under- 
stand that trick? They’re showin’ themselves half a 
dozen times over to scare us into knocking under. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


136 

Thar’s just ’bout a hundred of 'em, not one more, 
and they ain’t a little scart themselves.” 

Who is at the head of them? ’' 

Do you see that feller standin’ off at one end 
like ? kinder hid behind that tree ? ” 

Yes; but he isn’t dressed like a chief.” 

“ ’Cause he ain’t a chief, nohow. Don’t you 
know him ? ” 

“ No, I never saw him before.” 

“ I reckon you have. That ar’ gentleman is Mr. 
Thomas McGable, that you’ve been wantin’ to see 
so long.” 

At mention of this notorious renegade’s name, 
there was a sensation among the whites. Abbot, 
Mansfield, and others strained to get a view of him 
through the loop-holes, and expressions of indigna- 
tion were freely made. 

“ How nice I could pick him off,” whispered 
Peterson to Mansfield, and he ran his eye along the 
glistening barrel of his rifle. 

“ Don’t do it — don’t do it,” admonished our hero. 
‘‘ Remember your promise to Abbot.” 

‘‘You needn’t be afraid; shootin’ would be too 
good for him. He’s bound to know what the white 
men think of him afore ne dies.” 

The marching, filing, and counter-marching con- 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


137 

tinned a considerable time, when the commander 
within the block-house was heard to say : 

Hello ! we're going to hear something." 

“ Just as I s'pected," said Dingle. “ McGable's 
goin' to exhort us." 

The renegade made his appearance, holding a 
white handkerchief suspended on a stick over his 
head, as a flag of truce. He walked forward, wav- 
ing the fluttering signal conspicuously, until about 
half way between the forest and the block-house, 
when he mounted one of the stumps which were so 
numerous about him, and then he made a speech. 
First, he advised them as a friend to surrender; 
demonstrated the utter foolishness of hoping to 
resist such an overwhelming force as he had at his 
back, and pledged his honor that they should be 
treated humanely. Warming with his subject, he 
informed them what a mighty man he was; what he 
had done, and what he would do, and how all white 
men knew better than to resist him. If his summons 
to surrender were not heeded, he would blow the 
whole settlement sky-high, and tomahawk every 
man, woman, and child! 

We regret we have not space to give this remark- 
able speech verbatim. It v^s so long and windy 
that we feel compelled to be satisfied wkh the above 
synopsis. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


138 

After the renegade had finished, he seated him- 
self upon the edge of the stump, and waited for the 
commander’s answer. The latter, without keeping 
him waiting, stepped boldly out upon the platform, 
and shouted in a voice, every syllable of which^ 
Jenkins, who was several miles away in the forest, 
afterward averred he distinctly heard: 

‘'Tom McGable! You may attack and be 
hanged ! ” 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


139 


CHAPTER X. 

IN WHICH THERE IS A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE 
SHAWNEES, THE SPEAKERS, AND JENKINS. 

After receiving the summary reply of the com- 
mander of the block-house, McGable arose, and, 
without a word walked toward the wood. Here he 
seemed to spend a short time in consultation with the 
Indians; for they immediately after separated and 
disappeared among the trees. 

‘‘ What does that mean ? ” asked Mansfield. 

“ They’ve drawn off, and will wait till night ’fore 
they try any of their games,” replied Peterson, 
“ We ain’t done with ’em yet.” 

Such seemed to be the impression of all the others 
who had had any experience in Indian warfare. 
The Indians were too eager and well-prepared to be 
satisfied with anything short of an attempt to carry 
the block-house. 

The night set in cold and stormy. The rein 
poured down in torrents, and the wind hurled it 


140 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


rattling against the block-house. The air, too, was 
of inky darkness, and the dismal sighing of the 
forest, the dull, murmuring roar of the Ohio, made 
the scene gloomy enough to the settlers. Had it not 
been for the incessant lightning, the time could not 
have been more favorable for the assault of the 
Indians. But the sharp, trembling streams of fire 
played constantly overhead, lighting up the forest 
and clearing as if at noonday, and the ‘‘ near crashing 
of the thunderbolt ” seemed to inspire the timid with 
a sort of valor — a peculiar bravery that they were 
strangers to at other times. 

Dingle, Peterson, and the most experienced 
Indian-fighters never removed from their stations 
at the loop-holes during the night. The terrible 
storm that prevailed was of incalculable benefit to 
the whites in another particular. It prevented their 
assailants from using that most dreaded of all 
agencies — fire, in the assault. 

The sentinels mentioned kept a continual watch 
from all sides of the block-house upon the wood and 
clearing. They knew too well that the continued 
silence of their enemies was more dangerous than 
open demonstration. Some deep-laid plan was 
hatching which was expected momently to develop 
itself. 

Now and then a few syllables were exchanged 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


14I 

between those within, but these fragments of con- 
versation only seemed to make the gloom more im- 
pressive. No lights were burning, and none could 
see his neighbor. The men had all been assigned 
stations by the commander, which they did not offer 
to leave or exchange, while some of the women and 
younger portion, overcome by watching and the 
confined air, gave way to their drowsiness and slept 
feverishly and fitfully. 

The hours between midnight and morning are 
the invariable ones selected by the North American 
Indian for making his attack upon his enemy. This 
strange being, so similar to the wild animal in more 
than one respect, seems to have learned many a 
lesson from him. Darkness, the stealthy approach 
and blow ; the inevitable yell and leap in death ; the 
howl of rage and disappointment; the chilling war- 
whoop; the persisting trailing of an enemy; the 
patient, silent watch ; the black passions of revenge ; 
the reveling in blood ; all these are passions common 
to and a part of both. 

It was at that hour, just beyond midnight, the 
most weird and gloomy of all, when a sort of stupor 
or indifference had fallen upon all except the most 
experienced, that Dingle gave the intelligence of 
the Indians having been seen upon the clearing, in 
the rear of the block-house. Almost at the same 


142 


THE FRONTIER ANQEL. 


instant, Peterson added that they were also upon 
the front. Their course of action was now sus- 
pected at once; it was to attack the rear until the 
attention was concentrated in this direction, when a 
rush would be made upon the front, and an attempt 
to scale the palisades. 

Every man was now upon the alert. The light- 
ning, as if ordered of Providence, inflamed more in- 
cessantly, and nearly every step of the approaching 
savages could be seen. Some twenty were halting 
just beneath the edge of the wood, and evidently 
waiting for a moment of darkness in which to make 
a rush. 

H’yer they come ! ’’ said Peterson. 

The same instant all saw them half way across 
the clearing, and almost immediately a dozen spouts 
of flame flashed from as many port-holes, and nearly 
half the Indians leaped wildly in the air and rolled 
quivering to the ground. The others wavered for a 
moment, and then scattered and took to the wood 
again. 

“ H’yer they am now, sartain ! ” called out Dingle. 

The real attack was now attempted. Nearly the 
whole pack, yelling like so many tigers, rushed for- 
ward, and came up against the palisades like a 
hurricane. Here, as their heads appeared, by the 
aid of the friendly lightning, they were shot down 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


143 

by the cool and deliberate fire of the whites. The 
firing was as incessant as the lightning, and told 
with frightful effect upon the assailants. But 
the Shawnees are brave, when excited, and they 
maintained the assault most determinedly. McGable 
was soon seen several times, and three of the 
soldiers, as they afterward said, aimed nearly all 
of their shots at him. But fate seemed to protect 
him. 

As the darkness blazed forth with the living fire, 
the block-house loomed forth, clear and defined, 
standing as it did, like a large, dark, motionless 
animal brought at bay by his dogged pursuers, and 
from whose hundred eyes the red bolts of destruc- 
tion were hurled incessantly and wrathfully. 

The Shawnees continued their desperate attempts 
to scale the palisades, growing more furious and 
revengeful at their repeated failures. But the 
steady, continual fire of the whites made dreadful 
slaughter, and they finally broke and fled in the 
wildest confusion to the wood. The shots from the 
block-house continued as long as a single Indian 
was visible. 

** What do they now propose to do ? ** asked Mans- 
field. 


144 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


To git home ’bout as quick as their legs will let 
them.” 

“GkK>d! Our success has been better than we 
could have hoped.” 

“Don’t git excited now, ’cause it ain’t noways 
sartin they’ve left yet.” 

“ It makes no difference whether they have or 
not; it is all the same to us. We haven’t lost a 
single man, while they have had twenty killed. 
They can’t make a more vigorous attack than this 
last one, and they cannot possibly meet with a more 
complete repulse.” 

“ I tell you that ef it hadn’t been for the rain and 
the lightning, we’d have found things considerably 
summat different. In the first place, we wouldn’t 
had the light to shoot by, and in the next they 
would’ve had some chance to give us a taste of what 
they had lamed to do with fire.” 

“ They’ve gone for home,” said Dingle, decis- 
ively ; “ they won’t bother us again very soon.” 

So it proved. An hour or two later, it began to 
become gray and misty in the east, the rain ceased 
falling, and gradually the light of morning stole 
over the wood and settlement. As the day broke, 
the scene was dismal and cheerless. The appear- 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


145 

ance of the forest, after a cold storm of rain has 
passed over it, always seems to wear its most dis- 
agreeable look. The dripping twigs, the branches 
loaded overhead with water, every rustle of which 
brings it down in torrents. The cold, sticky leaves, 
the wet, shining bark of the trees, and the chilling 
wind that soughs through the wood, all induce a 
feeling of desolation and dislike. 

Such appeared the forest the morning after the 
attack. In the clearing, the bare, charred stumps 
seemed blacker than usual, and the beautiful river 
was now turbulent and muddy. Not a sign of the 
savages was seen. They had disappeared, carrying 
with them their dead and wounded; and the only 
vestiges of the conflict were numerous red spots in 
the clayey earth which the storm had not com- 
pletely washed away. 

Before it was light, Dingle and Peterson entered 
the wood to ascertain whether the Shawnees had 
really fled or not. They now made their appearance 
with the intelligence that they were not in the neigh- 
borhood, and there was no further cause for fear. 
The settlers, thankful and joyous, poured out of 
the block-house, carrying back their furniture and 
valuables, and by noon the settlement wore its usual 
appearance again. 


146 the frontier angel. 

One of the sentinels reported to the commander 
about this time, that there was still an Indian in 
the wood, apparently bent upon mischief. 

‘* Draw bead and shoot him the first chance you 
get,” was the reply. 

With this determination, the sentinel betook him- 
self to watching again. He was the only person act- 
ing in that capacity at this time, the commander 
deeming the assurance of Dingle and Peterson of 
enough weight to allow his men a good half day's 
rest. 

Occasional glimpses of the supposed savage 
could be obtained; but it was a long time before 
the sentinel could bring his rifle to bear upon him. 
He dodged and flitted so rapidly that it seemed 
impossible; but becoming impatient and provoked, 
the sentinel at last raised his gun, took a quick 
aim at what he supposed to be his head, and blazed 
away. 

“ Consarn your old picter, who you shooting at ? ” 
called out the indignant Jenkins, as he stepped into 
the clearing. 

The sentinel dropped his gun in amazement, and 
stared all agape at the speaker as he recognized 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


147 


him. Jenkins supposing his silence the result of 
fear, suddenly became valiant and again demanded, 

** Say, who you shooting at ? S’pose you’d have 
hit me. Smart, ain’t you. You needn’t look so in- 
nocent and drop that gun, and pretend you didn’t 
do it. I seen you take aim and shoot, and I’ll pay 
you for it, danged if I don’t ! ” 

By this time Peterson and several others appeared 
on the platform, and understanding how matters 
stood, their laughter was loud and continued. Jen- 
kins indeed presented a comical and curious 
appearance. Naturally thin and bony, he now 
seemed doubly elongated, from the fact that his 
clothes were completely saturated, and clung tightly 
to his limbs. As he straddled indignantly forward, 
they flapped together, and it would have been no 
great stretch of imagination to suppose him a post 
gliding over the ground. 

“ Can’t you answer ? Who you shooting at ? ” 

“ Why at you, of course,” replied the commander,, 
striving vainly to restrain his gravity. Jenkins was 
heard to give a loud “ umph ! ” and seen to shake 
his hand in a warning manner, when he was ad- 
mitted into the gate and strode hurriedly toward the 
fort. The sentinel, who had gained his senses by 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


148 

this time, enjoyed the fun as much as the others, 
and determined to carry the joke through. He 
made no reply for the very purpose of giving 
Jenkins the idea he was sorely frightened at his 
mistake. 

The indignant Jenkins soon made his appearance 
upon the platform, and observing the cowering 
sentinel shrinking behind the others, called out, 

“YouVe the man, yes, sir! Come out here, and 
get half killed ! 

‘‘ That’s right, Jenkins, give it to him. He’ll larn 
better than to fire at you agin,” said Dingle, with 
an appearance of just indignation. 

“Go in, long-legs, and hammer him,” repeated 
the others. 

“Yes 1 come out here and take it, you old coward, 
you!” shouted Jenkins, stepping around and rub- 
bing his fore-arms as though he were rolling up his 
sleeves. “ Come out here, I tell you ! ” 

The men now pushed the trembling man from 
behind them, and retreated so as to leave the two 
in an open space and facing each other. The 
sentinel now put off all semblance of fear, and 
demanded in a gruff tone, 

“ What do you want ? ” 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


149 

** Why, I want you to stand still while I hammer 
you half to death I ’’ 

** Hammer away, but if your head isn’t cracked 
before five minutes, I’ll stand treat, boys.” 

The astonishment shown by Jenkins at this 
unexpected change was ludicrous in the extreme. 
His hands suddenly unclinched, and he stammered 
out, 

“ What — what did you say ? ” 

“Why, come on and fight,” replied the sentinel, 
blustering as vigorously as did Jenkins at first 

“ You shot at me, didn’t you ? ” 

“ Yes ; and will do it again, too.” 

“ I don’t think it was the right thing. I wouldn’t 
do it to you.” 

“ Because you are afraid,” 

“ No, — I don’t think I would.” 

“ Well, what of it?” 

“ I s’pose you didn’t do it on purpose, and I won’t 
say anything about it this time. But you mustn’t 
do it again.” 

“ Yes I will, if I want to. I shot at you, and am 
sorry I didn’t hit you. Come, I thought you was 
going to whip me.” 

“ Yes, Jenkins, give it to him. You said you 
were going to,” cried the others. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


150 

“ I don^t s'pose he done it on purpose/' he 
replied, turning toward ti e others. 

“Yes I did, I told you so, and would as lief do 
it again as not." 

“Jerusalem! here I'm ‘'landing in my wet clothes 
and catching cold every minute. This'll never 
do!" 

And in spite of the jeers and laughs of the others, 
Jenkins with an anxious look, hurried away to 
“ change his clothes." 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


I51 


CHAPTER XI. 

A PRIZE GAINED AND LOST. 

Jenkins, as it afterward turned out, was in the 
wood reconnoitering the fort when the shot was 
fired which had well-nigh been so fatal to him. 
His object in doing this was to find out, before 
venturing to show himself, whether the Shawnees 
or whites held possession of the settlement. He 
had made the discovery of the attack when but a 
few miles oif, and hearing the guns and becoming 
alarmed for his own safety, he ascended a tree 
and remained there until every Indian had departed 
from the neighborhood. 

Some time after the closing scene of the last 
chapter, the sentinel confessed to Jenkins that he 
mistook him for an Indian when he fired, and 
he begged forgiveness for his great mistake. It is 
needless to say that the pardon was freely granted, 
and good humor held reign among them all. 

The day after the attack and repulse, Dick Dingle, 
for the first time in his life, was taken sick. He 


THB FRONTIER ANGEL. 


152 

was not dangerously so, but so severely that he was 
compelled to remain within doors. This happened 
unfortunately for Peterson, for the two had deter- 
mined to pursue the retreating Indians for the 
purpose of capturing the renegade. A short con- 
sultation was held, when Peterson announced that 
he should make the attempt himself, accompanied 
only by Mansfield, who was all eagerness to join 
him. 

Accordingly at noon, the two passed out of the 
gate and commenced the expedition by plunging 
into the forest. The trail of the retreating Shawnees 
was so recent that it had not been obliterated by 
the rain, and it was easily followed. It led up the 
river a couple of miles, when it crossed to the 
Kentucky shore and took a northwest direction 
directly toward Mad river. 

Our friends had not proceeded far when Peterson 
assured Mansfield that they were gaining rapidly 
upon the savages. The latter, encumbered by their 
dead and wounded, were making their way very 
slowly through the wood, and evidently had no 
thoughts of pursuit. An hour or two later Peterson 
remarked. 

We’re goin’ too fast, Mansfield; we’ll run our 
heads into some trap afore we know it. Let’s set 
down a while.” 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


153 

The two seated themselves upon a fallen tree and 
engaged in conversation. 

“ If we don’t stop we’ll be up with them afore 
night/’ said Peterson. 

And why shouldn’t we ? ” 

Because — ^sh ! there’s some one back of us now.” 

Before they either had time to conceal themselves, 
the bushes parted, and the mysterious Frontier 
Angel stood before them. 

“ What are you doing here ? ” she asked quietly. 

‘‘ Looking for that renegade,” replied Mansfield. 
Do you know how far the Shawnees are 
away ? ” 

“ Can’t be very fur, I think,” replied Peterson. 

“ They are encamped a half-mile from here, and 
have sent scouts back upon their trail to see who 
pursues. If you remain here twenty minutes longer 
you will be seen and shot.” 

Whew ! that’s more than we bargained for,” 
remarked Peterson ; “if it’s all the same, we’ll 
decline at present and slide.” 

“ Do you know anything of McGable — ” 

Our hero stopped, for she had disappeared as 
quickly and quietly as she came. 

“ It won’t do to wait hyer — reds is about,” ad- 
monished Peterson. 

No time was lost by our friends in seeking safety. 


154 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


The trail of the retreating body was so broad and 
palpable that there was little fear of their pursuit 
being noticed. The scouts sent back would take 
the direction of the back trail, and keep alongside 
of it to ascertain whether any force was following 
them. If so, an effort would be made to draw them 
in ambush. They had no suspicion, and cared 
nothing for such pursuit as was really made. 

Peterson and Mansfield proceeded in a direction 
at right angles with the main travel, for several 
hundred yards, where they secreted themselves. 
Here they remained for over an hour. By this time 
it was well toward night, and they ventured forth 
to resume the Shawnee trail again. After reach- 
ing it, they followed it a considerable distance, 
when finding that the Indian camp could be but a 
short distance away, they halted and again made off 
in a side direction. 

It was while doing this, and when several hun- 
dred feet from it, that Peterson, who was slightly 
in advance, suddenly halted and raised his hand 
over his head as a signal for Mansfield to remain 
quiet. Both stood motionless a moment, when 
Peterson took several stealthy steps forward and 
motioned for Mansfield to come to his side. The 
latter did so, his looks showing more than words, 
the curiosity he felt. The ranger, by way of reply. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


155 

pointed ahead, and downward. Mansfield followed 
the direction of his finger, and he felt every nerve 
thrill within him, as he saw a few feet in advance, 
the extended and sleeping form of the renegade, 
McGable. 

“ We've got him at last ! " whispered Peterson 
exultingly. 

The man, from all appearances, had lain down to 
rest a short distance from the camp to escape the 
hubbub and confusion occasioned by the presence 
of so many wounded and dying. That he was 
entirely unsuspicious of personal danger was evi- 
dent from this fact. 

Mansfield was too excited and fearful of awak- 
ening him to even whisper or suggest anything to 
Peterson. The latter, coolly and deliberately, stepped 
forward and removed the rifle from the nerveless 
embrace of McGable; then, stooping gently, pulled 
his knives from his girdle. This done, Peterson 
cocked his own gun, and holding it pointed toward 
the breast of the renegade, said: 

“ Now wake him, Mansfield — give him a kick on 
the shins, and don’t be afraid of hurting him.” 

Our hero gave him a gentle touch with his foot, 
which, failing to have effect, he increased to a 
kick. Seeing him make a movement as though 
awakening, he stepped back as directed. The rene- 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


156 

gade, mumbling to himself, finally opened his eyes 
and stared bewilderingly about him, seemingly 
totally unable to comprehend his whereabouts. 

“ Mr. Thomas McGable, Esq., I believe,'’ said 
Peterson, with much gravity, without removing the 
aim of his rifle. 

“ Who the devil are you ? " demanded the 
renegade. 

Your master, sir.” 

“We’ll see about that. Where — ” 

He paused as he reached for his rifle and found it 
gone ; and his astonishment turned to furious indig- 
nation when he discovered that his knives had 
also been removed. 

“ What in the name of the furies are you doing 
with my arms ? ” 

“Jest sot ’em one side for fear you might hurt 
yourself.” 

“ See here, I understand your game, but it won’t 
do. You think I’m your prisoner, eh? Did you 
know there is a hundred Shawnees within calling 
distance, who’d cut you to pieces ef they knowed 
you war here. Now, if you don’t hand me my 
gun and knives back, they’ll do it. I call ’em and 
then you may whistle for your hair.” 

Peterson’s face grew as black as a thunder-cloud, 
and his eyes fairly scintillated with fierceness. 



“ * Mr. Thomas McGable, Esq., I believe,’ said Peterson with 
much gravity, without removing the aim of his rifle.” 


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THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


159 

“ Tom McGable/’ said he, in a voice as deep and 
rumbling as the distant thunder, “ we come after 
you. You’ve got to go back to the settlement with 
us, and it don’t matter whether you’re dead or alive ! 
I’ve swore that I will bring you back with me, and 
ef I thought it would be any trouble to drive you 
thar. I’d shoot you through your black heart this 
minute, grab you by the neck, and drag you along. 
You can holler to the Shawnees, but it would never 
do you any good ; you’d never live to see ’em. Ef 
I hadn’t made a promise. I’d knife you this minute. 
Tom McGable, you may take yer choice; you can 
either git up and walk along jist as we tell you, 
without making the least noise, or you can set still 
and be shot on the ground there. It don’t make a 
bit of difference to me, but one or t’other has got 
to be done. I’ll give you four seconds and a 
half to decide in. Ef you ain’t started by that time. 
I’ll shoot, by thunder ! ” 

During the utterance of these words, the renegade 
manifested a curious compound of emotions. First 
indignation and blustering bravado were depicted 
upon his snaky face; this gave way to doubt and 
hesitation, and when the last expletive fell from 
Peterson’s lips, he was the embodiment of trembling, 
craven-hearted fear. 


l6o FRONTIER ANGEL. 

** What — what will you do with me ? ” he asked 
tremblingly. 

“ Kill you, like as not.” 

What do you want me for ? ” 

“Come, you going to start? Your time’s up. 
Speak quick ! ” 

Pale as death and muttering a fearful curse, the 
renegade arose to his feet and faltered that he was 
ready. 

“ Trot along then, and we’ll foller.” 

“ Which way you going? This way ? ” he asked, 
turning his face in the direction of the Indian camp. 

“ I ruther guess not at present. Turn round 
t’other way ’zactly, don’t turn your head, or try to 
come any of your dodges, for the minute you do, 
you’ll be hacked to flinders, shot, and yur ha’r 
raised.” 

McGable wheeled around in the direction indi- 
cated, and started forward, our two friends follow- 
ing him closely. It was now quite dark, and the 
gloom in the wood was intense. There was no 
moon, and the sky was still cloudy and obscured. 
When the darkness became so great, Peterson took 
the renegade by one arm, Mansfield by the other, 
and the trio thus proceeded. 

After walking an hour or so, the renegade, prob- 
ably finding there was no immediate, personal 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 

danger, regained in some degree his courage and 
ventured to speak. 

'' Fd like to ask you a Question. No 'bjection I 
s’pose.” 

“ Not as long as you’re respectful to your ’sper- 
iors,” replied the ranger. 

“Wal, then, how come you to find me?” 

“ We looked for ye.” 

“ I s’pose, but you didn’t s’peck I was such a 
cussed fool to go off in the woods to sleep, did 
you ? Leastways, I didn’t s’peck I was myself.” 

“ No, it was kinder accident that we found you.” 

“ S’pose so. How was it you was so well fixed 
at the block-house for us. How did you find out 
we were coming ? ” 

Peterson reflected a moment before replying to 
this question. He was in doubt whether a dis- 
closure would not be dangerous to the Frontier 
Angel. He asked Mansfield’s advice upon it, and the 
two fell behind and debated it in an undertone for 
a few moments. They came to the same conclusion, 
that, as McGable was already condemned to death, 
and there seemed no possibility of his escape, there 
could be no harm in letting him know the truth. 
This decided, they stepped forward, took him by 
the arms, and the ranger replied, or rather asked : 

‘‘ S’posen we tell you ; what of it ? ” 


l52 FRONTIER ANGEL. 

nothing only I thought I'd like to know 
before I died. There’s a gal that’s called the 
Frontier Angel, that I’ve had my s’picion of. I’ve 
told the Shawnees of it, but she acts so good, they 
won’t believe it. Didn’t she have nothing to do with 
telling you ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, she told us.” 

So I thought. It’s lucky the In jins won’t 
believe it.” 

“Now I wish to ask you a question,” said Mans- 
field. 

“ Wal, what is it?” 

“ Who is Frontier Angel ? ” 

The renegade maintained silence for several 
minutes till our hero repeated in a louder tone. 

“Who is the person they call Frontier Angel? 
Do you know ? ” 

“ Yes, but I cannot tell you.” 

“ Why not? I am sure it can do no harm.” 

“ P’r’aps not, but I can't tell you. Let that be 
the answer.” 

“ I am not willing that it shall be. I insist that 
you tell or give some reason for not doing so.” 

“ I’ll give you the reason, then. I know who 
she is, but have sworn never to tell a white, and I 
swear agin I never will.” 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 163 

** In that case, I have no right to question you 
further.” 

The renegade made no reply, and the three con- 
tinued their journey for a considerable distance in 
silence, when he said: 

“ There's one thing, howsumever. I’ll tell you 
without the axing. The gal they call the Frontier 
Angel is crazy! ” 

Mansfield started painfully at this. 

“ What made her crazy ? ” he asked, forgetting 
himself. 

“ Don’t ax me, fur I can’t tell you any more.” 

“ She ain’t white, is she ? ” demanded Peterson. 

Won’t hurt yer, I guess, ef you let us know that 
much.” 

I won’t tell you no more, so you can both dry 
up.” 

The journey was now continued without a word 
being spoken by any. The renegade seemed sullen 
and moody and maintained silence. His remarks 
had set both Peterson and Mansfield to thinking. 
It was not the first time they had both puzzled 
themselves thus. Who could the singular Frontier 
Angel be? was the all-absorbing question. She was 
crazy! that accounted for the reverence and awe in 
which she was held by the Indians. And yet her 
manner had never awakened the remotest suspicion 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


164 

that such was the case among the whites with 
whom she had come in contact. That accounted 
for the temerity with which she executed the holy 
object of her life — that of befriending the whites 
in peril. 

Despite the improbability of the case, Mansfield 
could not avoid the thought that she was a white 
person. He could form no possible reason for thus 
thinking, and yet the thought would present itself. 
At last he imparted his singular idea to Peterson. 
The latter dissipated it at once by telling him that 
such could not be the case. Dingle, who knew 
as much, if not more of her than any of the rangers, 
assured him that he had noticed her features and 
face to satisfy himself, as he entertained and had 
heard so many doubts expressed about it. She had 
the black eyes and hair of the Indian, although the 
prominent cheek-bones and several other charac- 
teristics of the race were wanting. But the skin 
showed unmistakably that she belonged to the 
aboriginals. 

“ But where has she obtained that perfect knowl- 
edge of the English tongue that she evinces in her 
conversation ? ” 

''Dick can't answer that, but h'yers as thinks 
that goes to show she's a sperit sure, 'cause if she 
ain't, what else can she be ? " 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


165 

This set Mansfield's thoughts in another direction. 
A darker picture presented itself. The refusal of 
McGable to answer his question added life to the 
picture, and our hero became satisfied that he had 
now struck the truth. 

Isn't she your wife, Tom McGable? " he asked, 
bending his mouth close to the ear of the renegade. 

The latter started, as if stung by a serpent, trem- 
bled and breathed hard for a moment, but made no 
answer. Mansfield repeated his question in a 
more peremptory tone, but it was of no avail: th^ 
renegade had resolutely sealed his lips. 

This, together with his manner, demonstrated to 
a certainty to Mansfield, that the Frontier Angel 
had been or was now the Indian wife of Mc- 
Gable. She had married him, he believed, when 
she dreamt not what a black heart she was taking 
to her bosom. Goaded by his cruelty and the sub- 
sequent knowledge of his awful crimes against his 
own race, her reason had become dethroned. And 
the safety of the people, that was the object of 
eternal hatred to her husband, now became the 
burden of her life. The change from the natural 
aversion which she, as an Indian, felt to the whites, 
to that of friendship and love for them, he believed 
was due to the unbounded horror created in her 
mind by the atrocities of McGable^ It was one of 


j 66 FRONTIER ANGEL. 

those singular phenomena which the human mind 
often presents. Mansfield, previous to this, had felt 
some slight degree of compassion for their captive, 
but it was all gone now. The man who, inde- 
pendent of the last-named crime, could bring him- 
self to forswear and massacre his own kindred, 
without a shadow of provocation upon their part, 
he felt deserved any death that the ingenuity of man 
could invent. 

The march of the three was continued all through 
the night, and the halt in the morning was of but a 
few minutes duration, as Peterson felt fearful of 
pursuit in case the absence of the renegade was dis- 
coved. A short time after, the settlement was in 
sight, and before twenty minutes more had passed, 
Tom McGable, the notorious renegade, was ushered 
within the palisades by our two friends. 

The astonishment and rejoicing created by his 
capture were unbounded. He was taken at once 
to the block-house and placed in the upper story, 
from which it was impossible for him to escape. 
There had been quite a heavy reward oifered for 
his apprehension, and the commander assured 
Peterson and Mansfield that, as soon as it could 
be secured, they should have it. The latter, how- 
ever, refused to receive any portion, as he had 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 

rendered no assistance worthy of mention in the 
capture of the prisoner. 

The excitement became so great among the 
settlers that the commander, to quiet them, gave 
out that the garrison would determine what should 
be done with McGable at once. Abbot, hearing 
this, requested the commander that he might be 
allowed, as a great favor, to see the prisoner alone 
for a short time. The peculiar circumstances of 
the stricken father being known, this request was 
granted; and McGable, under charge of Dingle — 
who asserted that he had been cured by his capture 
— and the officious Jenkins, was conducted to 
Abbot’s house. There being but one door by which 
the lower story could be entered the guards re- 
mained outside, and Abbot found himself face to 
face with the man who had so well-nigh killed his 
entire family at one blow. Mrs. Abbot, not wishing 
to be present at such an interview, had purposely 
absented herself, and the two, the murderer and 
the murdered, we might almost say, were alone. 
Abbot gave the renegade a seat, and then sat him- 
self in front of him, where he could look directly 
into his face. 

“ I have petitioned that I might see you alone, 
McGable,” commenced Abbot, in a low, quiet tone, 
“ in order that I might ask you something, which. 


1 68 the frontier angel. 

perhaps, you suspect. God knows that I have no 
desire to revenge myself upon you. Only grant me 
this privilege, and I will forgive you, McGable, for 
the awful crime you have committed. Last spring 
I sent Marian upon a flat-boat, expecting to rejoin 
her in this settlement a few months later. Instead 
of reaching her destination, the boat was decoyed 
and all on board murdered, with the exception of 
Peterson, who effected his escape. He left Marian 
dying, he believed, upon the boat as he sprang away. 
Had he left her dead, this interview would not have 
been sought by me. But there has been a doubt ever 
since in the mind of her mother and myself, of the 
manner in which she died, — for we do not pretend 
to hope that she survived. This doubt has so 
troubled us, that I have tried all means of solving it. 
You must know the circumstances, McGable, and 
now a broken-hearted father appeals to you to give 
this knowledge, and set his trouble forever at rest.” 

While Abbot was uttering these words, the ren- 
egade sat like a demon incarnate, his eyes blazing 
with the most baleful passion. His teeth were set 
and he drew his breath hard and gaspingly through 
them. He controlled this whirlwind of fury, in a 
measure, before Abbot had finished, and when he 
spoke it was in the low, frightful voice of suppressed 
passion. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


169 

‘^Richard Abbot, your daughter refused me, and 
I swore I would be revenged. I joined the 
Shawnees as Simon Girty and others did, but I kept 
watch upon your settlement. I found out that you 
was going to send her to this place in company with 
others. Then I cac’lated the time had come, and 
was only sorry that you wasn’t there, too, that you 
could have been tomahawked, too ! I found out when 
the boat started, and it was dogged till it reached 
the right spot, when we came down upon it. Don’t 
ax me no more. I’ve had my revenge, and that’s 
enough.” 

The stricken-hearted man sat as pale and silent 
as death while these burning words were being 
uttered. It was not his emotions alone that made 
him thus, but the mighty struggle it took to control 
them. 

“Will you not tell me?” he asked, in a voice of 
wailing agony that it would have melted the heart 
of human. 

''No; I’ll tell you nothing!” fairly shouted 
McGable, glaring like a tiger upon him. 

“ Once more I ask you, McGable, and in the name 
of Heaven do not refuse me. Was Marian killed 
outright ? ” 


170 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


** None your business/’ was the sullen reply. 

Such a sudden dizziness came over Abbot at this 
point, that, for fear of fainting, he arose and 
hurried into the room which occupied the same 
floor, and which connected with the one in which 
he had been sitting. He hoped to return in a 
moment, and was so bewildered and overcome that 
he only thought of being alone till he could regain 
his self-command. It is said the Old Boy himself 
sometimes helps his favorites. Whether such is the 
the case we are not prepared to say ; but what now 
took place is enough to make us skeptical, to say 
the least. 

Most singularly it happened that just before 
Abbot withdrew, Dingle felt a sudden return of his 
sickness of the morning. It was so violent that his 
iron will could not resist it, and he staggered away 
for the same purpose of being alone; for, if our 
readers have noticed it, it is almost invariably the 
case that when a man, unaccustomed to sickness, is 
suddenly taken, his first wish is to be alone with 
himself. He felt, too, that perfect recklessness 
which is apt to come over us at such times, in 
regard to temporal matters, and had Dingle been 
admonished at this particular moment of his im- 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


I71 

prudence, his probable reply would have been that 
McGable might go to perdition for all he cared. 
Thus it happened that the terrible renegade was left 
with no guard at all except Jenkins. 

Even then it might not have happened so unfortu- 
nately, had not the last-named individual taken it 
into his head to ascertain how matters were pro- 
gressing inside. Being left without the compan- 
ionship of Dingle, it was perfectly natural that he 
should take this means of passing away time. 

“ Hello ! inside there, you, how you getting 
along ? he called out, poking his head in at the 
door. Receiving no reply, he shoved his head 
further in, and then made the discovery that the 
renegade was standing alone in the middle of the 
floor. “ Hello ! all alone, eh ? what you thinking 
about ? Your sins, I s’pose. Shouldn't wonder now 
if you did feel sorter down in the mouth." 

What do you want ? " gruffly demanded 
McGable. 

“Oh, nothing in particular. Dick has just gone 
off to see the doctor to get some medicine to 
take for the gripes he has just got, and I thought 
Fd look in to pass away time till he comes back." 

“ Where is he ? " asked the man quickly, vainly 
striving to conceal his agitation. 


172 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


“ Just off here, a little ways. If you want to see 
him. I'll call him.” 

“ Never mind.” 

“ I s'pose now — ^umph ! ” 

The last exclamation of Jenkins was perfectly 
involuntary, and caused by receiving a terrific 
blow from the foot of the renegade, directly in the 
stomach, which doubled him up like a jack-knife. 
As he gasped and rolled over upon the grass, Mc- 
Gable shot over his head like an arrow, and bounded 
away for the palisades. Nearly all the men were 
at the block-house, debating upon his fate, but 
several descried the flying fugitive, and shouted the 
alarm. An instant after he scaled the palisades, 
and Peterson and several other rangers sped across 
the clearing in pursuit. Dingle, who had nearly 
recovered, raised a regular war-whoop, and joined 
in the chase. 

Late at night, several of the pursuers returned, 
moody and sullen with their ill success. In the 
morning, another made his appearance with the 
intelligence that Dingle and Peterson were still in 
rapid pursuit, but there was little hope of over- 
taking the renegade, as he possessed a wonderful 
fleetness of foot, and in all probability had given 
them the slip during the night. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


173 


So it proved. Some time after the two rangers 
returned and confirmed this suspicion. They had 
not even caught a glimpse of him after he crossed 
the clearing and entered the wood. 


174 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL, 


CHAPTER XIL 

A MINGLING OF FEAR, DOUBT, AND HOPE. 

And so it happened that the terrible sentence, 
“He shall first be shot and then be burnt in the 
clearing and cast into the river/' was never exe- 
cuted upon Tom McGable. The opportunity was 
never given. 

The indignation at his escape could scarcely be 
repressed; but the version given by Jenkins so 
completely exculpated himself from blame, that 
he escaped entirely the shafts of indignation. There 
were some, it is true, who had their private opinion 
of this wonderful story ; but, as there was no witness 
to disprove it, these opinions were unexpressed. 

Jenkins affirmed that what first induced him to 
peep into the room was a strong smell of brimstone. 
Upon looking in, he saw McGable sitting astride 
of the devil, who was walking slowly toward the 
open door, holding a trident in one claw. Jenkins 
informed him that he was very sorry to oppose 
him, but nevertheless, he felt compelled by the stern 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


175 

dictates of duty to prevent his passage. At that, 
the father of all evil made a rush toward him, 
striking him in the breast with the trident, and grap- 
pling with him. They closed in with each other, 
and the struggle became fearful. Jenkins, securing 
the trident, used it as a “ whip of scorpions,” and 
was satisfied he gave some strange horrors ” with 
it. He believed he would have eventually triumphed, 
had he not been taken with one of his fainting fits at 
the critical moment. Victory thus secured, the 
arch-enemy galloped over his prostrate form, van- 
ished in mid air, and left McGable skimming over 
the ground toward the sheltering wood. 

More than one placed implicit faith in this story. 
Such is the superstition of the bravest of the brave 
— the border ranger! 

But there was one thing which troubled the 
settlement more than the escape of the renegade: 
it was the fate of the Frontier Angel. There was 
no fear of what the Indians would do, for it was 
well known that a crazy or foolish person is regarded 
among them as one specially gifted by Manitou, 
and under no consideration will they venture to harm 


1^5 the frontier angel. 

him; but it could hardly be expected that McGable 
would share in this superstition; and, now that 
his suspicions of the friendship of this being to 
the whites was resolved into an absolute certainty, 
some plan, it was rightly thought by the settlers, 
would be taken by him to close her lips forever. 
It was well known that there was no crime against 
the human race too great for the scoundrel to com- 
mit; and the weak, defenseless Frontier Angel, 
through the stupidity of the whites, would fall a 
victim to his vengeance. 

Freeze me to death, ef it shall be so! exclaimed 
Dingle, who was discussing the subject with Peter- 
son, the commander, and several others. “ No, 
sir ; ef that sperit is killed, her blood will be on us.’’ 

“ If she is a spirit, she cannot be harmed by 
mortals,” ventured Abbot. 

“ Wal, Tom McGable ain’t a mortal ; he’s an 
infarnal imp.” 

“ Whoever this strange being is, that you term 
Frontier Angel,” remarked the commander, “ it is 
evident to all that she is the firm friend of the 
whites. The timely warnings which she has so 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


177 

repeatedly given us, and, in fact, all the settle- 
ments along the Ohio, entitle her to their everlast- 
ing gratitude. If she is slain by McGable, as Dingle 
observes, the blood will be as much upon us. For 
it was ourselves who first told him she was our 
friend, and then allowed him to escape to do what 
he pleased with her. No, friends, it will never do. 
Some plan must be taken to warn her of her peril 
and afford her all the protection she will receive. 
Have you any plan ? ” 

“ Kill that renegade and then the matter will be 
set at rest,’’ replied Peterson. 

“ That is easier said than done,” remarked 
Mansfield. ‘‘ If I may be allowed to give an opin- 
ion it is this : now that McGable has been convinced 
of our deadly enmity to him, and our anxiety to 
secure him, he will take particular care never to 
give us an opportunity. It will be only in battle 
where he will be likely to feel our will in regard to 
him. This Frontier Angel is still roaming through 
the forest, engaged in her truly angelic work of 
befriending the whites ; and the plan that I propose 
is this: Let all the €ettlements which it is known 


1^8 the frontier angel. 

she visits be notified of the whole circumstances, 
and instructed to warn her upon the first oppor- 
tunity; and, besides this, let us all try to induce 
her to abandon the life she is leading, and to settle 
down and remain with us.’^ 

“ Yes, do; tell her Fll marry her if she will,'^ said 
Jenkins, all eager seriousness. 

“ Remember me and she is engaged,^’ said 
Dingle. 

Didn't Mansfield just say you was going to get 
her to abandon savage life and become civilized; 
consequently, won’t she have to leave you and come 
to me?” 

“ There, that will do,” interrupted the commander. 
“ The plan proposed by Mansfield strikes me as 
being the best, and I am in favor of adopting it at 
once.” 

“ It’s my opine it’s the real thing,” said Peterson. 
“ What do you think, Dick ? ” 

“ It’s the ticket, and h’yer’s as moves we stop 
talkin’ and go to workin’.” 

A short time longer was spent in consultation, 
when the following course was decided upon : 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


179 

Peterson was to go up the Ohio, and state the case 
at the different settlements, all the time seeking 
an interview with her, while Dingle and Mansfield 
were to range the vicinity of the Indian towns in 
the hope of meeting her. 

This plan, with characteristic vigor, was acted 
upon at once, and in the afternoon of the day suc- 
ceeding the es^pe of McGable, the three men were 
in the forest, seeking out the Frontier Angel. 
Dingle and Mansfield as said, took a northwest 
direction, toward the Shawnee towns, which they 
reached in due time. They remained in their 
neighborhood several days, and during that time 
gained one or two glimpses of McGable, but could 
see nothing of the being for whose benefit they 
came. At last they were satisfied she was not in 
them, and must either be in the Sciota valley, or 
engaged upon some errand of mercy or — had she 
already fallen a victim to revenge? 

Some time after, Dingle and our hero were 
in the Sciota valley, carefully reconnoitering the 
Indian villages, but they obtained no further infor- 
mation, and were reluctantly compelled to the 


l 8 o the frontier angel. 

belief that she was either at the eastern settlements, 
or she had already been murdered by McGable. 
The latter, as Mansfield remarked, took such care 
of his person, that there was little hope of again 
obtaining possession of it. Several days were spent 
in the neighborhood, without further success, when 
they turned their faces homeward, convinced that 
they had done all that it was possible for them to do 
in this direction, although that all was nothing. 

They reached the settlement and reported them- 
selves, and then all waited anxiously for the re- 
turn of Peterson. Before going out all knew the 
wishes of Abbot, and it was expected that some- 
thing definite would be gained of the fate of poor 
Marian. 

It was a week before Peterson came in ; but, when 
he did come, he had a report to give that thrilled 
every heart in the settlement. At the first village he 
reached, he was told the Frontier Angel had left 
there that morning, and that her manner was so 
wild and strange as to induce the settlers to use 
everything except force, to retain her. From her 
rambling, incoherent manner, and several remarks 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 

she made, they gathered that her life had already 
been attempted by McGable, and that the memory 
and thoughts of it made her act so singularly. 

From this settlement, he went on to the next, 
but she had not been seen here for several weeks. 
Having been instructed to visit all of the frontier 
villages, Peterson did so, but learnt notiiing more 
of her. From this he supposed that, if not in the 
Shawnee towns, she could be at no great distance 
from the settlement first mentioned. Accordingly, 
he spent several days searching the woods and 
streams in the hope of obtaining some trace of her. 
He failed to find her, but was discovered himself 
by her. 

He ha<i lain down one afternoon to rest himself, 
and was just falling into a doze, when he was 
startled to his feet by her suddenly appearing be- 
fore him. 

‘‘Are you looking for me?’’ she asked. 

“ Yes; but, confound it, how did you know it? ” 

“ Do you, too, seek my life ? ” she asked, gazing 
at him with the most painful anguish and terror 
depicted in her face. 

“ No; I wouldn’t hurt you for ten hundred thou- 
sand million pounds in British money. I’m looking 
for you to tell you, you must keep your eyes peeled, 
’cause there’s sunkthin’ in the wind.” 


i 82 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


There was a wildness in her look which, despite 
himself, made Peterson restless and ill at ease, 
although he took occasion to show by his words 
and manner that he had no such thoughts. The girl 
stared at him a moment, and then asked : 

“ You do not want to kill me, then, do you? ’’ 

“ No ; I wouldn’t do no such thing, and I would 
raise the ha’r of the man that tried it, if he was 
my own brother.” 

“ He tried to ; he shot at me, and chased me with 
his knife.” 

‘‘Who did so?” 

“ That bad man ; he is hunting now for me, and 
wants to kill me.” 

“ Who do you mean ? McGable ? ” 

“ Yes, it was he — ^he nearly killed me.” 

“ He may kill you yet. Won’t you go with me 
where he can’t hurt you ? ” 

“ Oh, no — no— I live alone, and God will take 
care of me.” 

She turned to depart, and Peterson, who all the 
time had felt fidgety and nervous, was glad to be 
alone, when it suddenly occurred to him there were 
several questions which he must yet ask, to gain 
the desired information for Abbot and Mansfield. 
So he called her back. 

“ Say, will you let me ax you a thing or two ? ” 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


183 

She answered by turning around and silently 
facing him. 

^'You know McGable in course, and must know 
he’s the all-firedest varmint that tramps. Wal, last 
spring he and a lot of Shawnees attacked a flat- 
boat, and sliced ’em all up ’cepting the best-looking 
one of the lot — him as is squatted afore you. Wal, 
that ain’t much to do with the matter, ’cept to illus- 
rate the point. There was a gal on board — that 
I tried to jump overboard with, but she got shot 
just as I was ready, and I left her behind. She 
wan’t dead then, but about so. Howsumever, her 
folks never’ll be satisfied till they know all about 
it. Might be you’ve heard of the gal ? ” 

No,” replied the Frontier Angel, shaking her 
head with a pensive, saddened look. 

S’pect you did. Sorry, ’cause I’d like to find 
out. Never heard McGable say nothin’ ’bout her? ” 

“ No.” 

Qu’ar. Oh ! is that renegade your husband ? ” 

The maiden simply gave him a wondering stare 
without making a further reply. Now that Peterson 
was fairly started, he determined to learn all he 
could of her. 

“ The name of the gal was Marian Abbot,” ob- 
served the ranger, suddenly recollecting that he 
had not mentioned her name. As he uttered it. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


184 

his heart fairly stopped beating, at the manner of 
the mysterious being before him. She started, 
her dark eyes opening so strangely, and her breath 
coming so short and gaspingly, that Peterson 
averred he felt his hair lift his coon-skin cap clean 
from his head. 

“ Marian Abbot — Marian Abbot — Marian,” she 
repeated, as if communing with herself, and gazing, 
not at Peterson, but over his head, far away into 
the horizon where the purple and golden clouds 
were then blazing with the fire of heaven. 

“ Yes, that was her name,” said Peterson anxious 
to help her. “ Splendid looking gal — looked some 
like me — -little shorter than you — purty near as good 
looking.” 

“ Marian Abbot — Marian Abbot,” she still re- 
peated, drawing her hand over her forehead as if 
engaged in intense thought. 

“ Yes — Pve told you that was her name.” 

** Have I heard of her, you ask ? Have I heard 
of Marian Abbot? — no — yes — let me see — I remem- 
ber. I saw her — no I know nothing of her ! ” she 
replied, dropping her hands from her forehead, 
and looking up at him with the same wild, fiery 
look. 

‘‘ Think agin,” urged Peterson, much disappointed 
at her manner. “ You jest now said you remem- 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 185 

bered her. Put your thinkin* cap on and p’r’aps 
you’ll find out arter all.” 

“ No ; I can’t remember anything. Don’t ask me 
to, for it hurts my head so much. Wait a moment ” 
— she said, pressing her hand quickly to her temple 
again. “ Marian Abbot — yes — there was such a 
girl — I remember her — I saw her among the 
Indians ! — 

At this point, she turned deadly pale, and sank 
to the earth. That singularly foolish notion, that 
it was fatal to touch the Frontier Angel, prevented 
Peterson from springing forward to her assistance. 
She did not faint, however, but instantly recovered 
herself and bounded away in the wood without 
uttering another syllable. 

This information, conveyed in substance, to the 
breathless listeners, by the ranger, thrilled every 
one, as we said, to the heart. It awakened, both 
in the father and Mansfield, a strange hope, that, 
from its every intensity, produced a deadly heart- 
sickness. Abbot reeled to his home, where, for a 
long time, he strove to control his agitation. He 
said nothing to his wife, for he was nearly un- 
manned, and feared he should turn crazy himself. 

O merciful Father ! can my daughter he alive? 
Did she escape that awful massacre? Is this a 


i86 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


dream? Am I going mad? Oh, grant that no hope 
may be awakened to be dashed from me again ! ” 

Mansfield was equally excited. The cold sweat 
came upon his face, and it seemed as if his heart 
stood still, and could never recover its power. It 
is difficult to conceive of a keener torment — a more 
excruciating agony than that which is produced 
by the awakening — the sudden bringing to life of 
a long-buried hope. The extremes of joy and pain 
are the same, but the culminating point of the latter 
is reached, when doubt — almost and yet not quite 
uncertainty — is a part of the former. It is impos- 
sible for a human being to quietly bear it. Relief 
must be found in some direction, or the sufferer’s 
reason will flee. 

The painful affliction of Abbot and his wife 
was known to the entire settlement, and they had 
the heartfelt sympathy of every one. It was be- 
lieved by all that the wife was dying of a broken 
heart. She was silent and remained at home, 
seeking the society of no one. She had become 
pale and fearfully emaciated, seeming resigned and 
anxious for the death that was so fast approaching. 
Her only desire was to rejoin her sainted child, 
where no murderer’s hand could ever separate 
them. 

After the father had, in some degree, regained 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


187 

command of himself, he passed out of the house 
again, without speaking to his wife, and made his 
way back to where a knot of the settlers were dis- 
cussing the all-absorbing question. Here he found 
with painful joy — for those two words express 
exactly his emotion — that the belief was quite 
general that Marian might possibly be alive and a 
prisoner among the Indians. 

“ I tell you it won’t be the fust time such a 
thing has happened,” remarked Dingle impressively, 
there’s no tellin’ what capers them Shawnees are 
up to. In course, there’s a powerful heap of chances 
that the gal has gone under, but h’yer’s as thinks it 
ain’t noways onpossible that the gal is kickin’ yet. 
Now, Jim Peterson, tell the truth for once; is you 
sartin that gal died when you dropped her on the 
boat? Mind you’re on your oath.” 

No, by the eternal, I don’t know she is dead, 
though I’d swear to it, on the Bible this minute.” 

“ Wall, sir, h’yer’s is goin’ to the Shawnee towns 
and findin’ out whether that gal is livin’.” 

But,” persisted Abbot, who seemed determined 
to receive no false basis for his hope, “ how can she 
be there? Have you not been to all the towns, 
and had an opportunity of judging. You certainly 
would have heard of her before this time.” 

** No ; I don’t know as I would. Them Shaw- 


i88 


THE FRONTIER AHQEL, 


nees ar’ all the time up to such tricks that no one 
can begin to keep track of 'em. Freeze me, and 
Lord bless you, man, I don’t want to make you 
think I am going to find your gal for you and then 
have her dead all the time. You must be ready for 
disappointment.” 

“ I am ready for anything, I trust,” faintly replied 
Abbot, who felt that he could not survive such a 
cruel dashing of the cup of hope from his lips. 


! 




TEE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


189 


CHAPTER XIII. 

DARK. 

The excitement in relation to the Frontier Angel 
and the lost Marian, was greatly increased by two 
circumstances, that occurred on the day following 
the return of Peterson. It had been determined, as 
the reader has already learned, by Dingle, that he 
should start to the Shawnee towns in search of 
tidings of Marian. In this dangerous undertaking 
it was agreed that Peterson should join him. 
The latter, having undergone considerable toil and 
fatigue, was compelled to remain over night by the 
commander, in order to be prepared for what was 
before him. 

Shortly after the sun had risen, and while the two 
scouts were preparing to start upon their expe- 
dition, the sentinel on the platform of the block- 
house reported an Indian canoe visible, far up the 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


190 

Ohio. The scouts including Abbot, Mansfield, 
Jenkins, and several others instantly ascended the 
platform to view the suspicious object. It was at 
a great distance — so great that it resembled a duck, 
or something similar, slowly swimming the river. 
It was not crossing, as first supposed, but coming 
down stream, and would if it continued, pass by 
the settlement. 

Hello ! ” exclaimed Dingle, “ there comes an- 
other one right behind it. What does that mean? 
Looks qu’ar I declar’.’’ 

Our friends continued gazing at the two canoes 
now visible with an intense interest. The last one 
had just rounded a bend in the river, and followed 
in the wake of the first. Whether it was in pur- 
suit or not was impossible to tell at the great 
distance; but, if so, their progress was so similar, 
that they seemed like moving automata, connected 
with each other under the water, and propelled by 
the same power. They kept the center of the cur- 
rent, in a direct line with each other, and moved 
steadily and rapidly as could be easily seen even at 
the distance they were away. They did not swerve 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


I9I 

a foot from a straight line, as seemingly anxious 
were they to hurry forward. 

“ Can't you make anything of it ? " asked Mans- 
field. 

I can see their paddles shinin' in the water," 
replied Dingle, “ and — I — think — " he added, speak- 
ing slowly with his eyes fixed upon the canoes — “ I 
think — yes, — I know there is only one in the first 
boat and there is — yes, two in the last. It is a 
race, sure as thunder ! " he exclaimed, standing 
and looking around upon the others. 

“ Perhaps only a friendly one, between a couple 
of Indian canoes," suggested Abbot. 

“ We don't have such races on the 'Hio this' time 
of year," replied the ranger with a quiet smile. 

It was certainly singular that the same sus- 
picion should enter the heads of all at the same 
time, and yet not one mention it, until it grew 
into a certainty. All continued watching the canoes, 
until it was evident that one person was pursued 
by a couple, and that the race was a most deter- 
mined one upon both sides. 

“ Freeze me to death on a stump ! " suddenly 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


192 

exclaimed Peterson, if that person in the first 
canoe ain’t that Frontier Angel, then shoot me! ” 
That’s so,” added Dingle, “ and the one as is 
chasin’ of her is our old friend Mr. McGable and 
an In jin I ” 

Several, as said, had entertained suspicions that 
the mysterious Frontier Angel was in the first 
canoe, but not one, save Dingle, had any idea that 
it could be the notorious renegade in pursuit. 
Even as it was, the commander of the post refused 
to believe he would venture so soon within sight 
of the block-house. 

‘‘ It’s him,” continued the ranger with complete 
assurance, “ I never was mistaken ’bout him, you 
can bet a powerful heap on that.” 

If so, you are standing here and going to see 
our best friend captured,” said the commander in 
a tone of severe rebuke. 

She ain’t agwine to be captured,” coolly replied 
Dingle. I guess McGable and his Shawnee will 
have to take a few instructions in rowing of the 
canoe, afore they’ll stand a chance to cotch the 
Frontier Angel.” 


THE FRONTIER ANQEL. 


193 

“ Can he not shoot her ? ’’ asked the comman- 
der more sternly than before. ‘'Dingle, you and 
Peterson hurry into the wood to her assistance, for 
she will need it. Shoot that McGable, and I will 
give each of you twenty pounds a piece, besides 
reporting you to the general.’’ 

“ He can shoot,” said Dingle to himself. “ Come, 
boys, let’s hurry. We orter started long ago, and 
we might’ve stood some chance. He can kill her 
now ef he takes a notion afore we can draw bead 
on him.” 

The two, accompanied by Mansfield, hurried out 
to the gate, were permitted to pass out by a man sta- 
tioned there, and away they sped across the clearing 
and into the wood, as fast as their legs could carry 
them. 

“ Foller me ! ” called Dingle, ducking his head 
and plunging through the bushes with a wonderful 
celerity, while Mansfield and Peterson strung along 
behind him with equal fleetness. 

In the meantime, those upon the platform were 
watching the canoe with intense and painful in- 
terest. 


194 


TEE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


“The old rapscallion is gainin^ on the beautiful 
angel/^ remarked Jenkins, excitedly. “ Oh, if I 
was only where I could get my grasp on that feller^s 
throat, Fd choke him to death in five seconds ! Oh ! 
oh ! oh ! wouldn’t I ? ” 

“ No ; I do not think he has gained at all 
upon her,” remarked Abbot. “ At any rate, the race 
cannot be continued much longer, for they will 
soon be nigh enough to run into danger. If we 
could only hit them with the swivel,” he added, 
looking toward the commander. 

The latter shook his head. 

“ The swivel is only to be used in cases of great 
emergency. We did not use it when the Shawnees 
made the night attack, because we could get along 
without its aid. Besides, it is not loaded with a 
single ball, but filled with slugs, bullets, and bits 
of iron, so as to do as much destruction as possible 
upon an enemy nigh at hand. No; the firing of 
the swivel, however well aimed, could effect no 
good purpose.” 

“ I wonder at the presumption and daring of 
McGable,” said Abbot, turning his gaze once more 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


195 

Up the river. “ They say he only differs from Simon 
Girty in point of cowardice. His heart is as black, 
but his face is often white wth fear. But this looks 
like bravery, to see him venture so nigh the spot 
which he knows is so dangerous to him.’’ 

He won’t come much nigher. I only hope that 
Dingle will get him within range of that rifle of his. 
It is all folly to undertake to capture him. If we 
should secure him, he would manage to get off 
again throu^ the help of that fool of a Jenkins.” 

The commander did not notice that the individual 
he referred to stood directly behind, and was gazing 
completely dumbfounded at him. Had he known 
it, he would not have cared, for the thought of the 
foolish escape of the renegade was ever a source 
of irritation to him, and he took no pains to con- 
ceal his opinion of Jenkins’ cowardice. But this 
was the first time the latter had heard him speak 
thus, and, as said, he was astonished in no small 
degree. 

“ Why, didn’t I tell you how it was ? how the Old 
Boy carried him off, and I fought like blazes to 
stop him, but happened to have one of my fainting 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


196 

fits just then. Think you'd believe a feller when 
he tells the truth." 

I do," dryly rejoined the commander. 

“ I tell you," said Abbot, excitedly, if McGable 
comes much further he will surely run against 
Dingle's bullet. He is so eager he does not seem 
to notice where he is running to. Look how that 
Shawnee pulls ! " 

And they are gaining upon her as sure as the 
world. She is wearied and well-nigh tired out. 
Heavens! it is too much to stand here. and witness 
that," exclaimed the commander, half beside him- 
self. “ Why, in the name of heaven, don't Dingle 
shoot him? He would have been nigh enough if 
he had only walked. I cannot comprehend it 1 " 

“ Look I McGable is going to shoot ! " 

“ It cannot be — yes — " 

At that instant, a bright flash was seen to flame 
out in the front of the rear canoe, a thin wreath 
of smoke curled upward, and a moment after, the 
faint report of the renegade's rifle was heard. 

“ Is she hit ? Curse it, where is Dingle ? " i x^ 
claimed the commander, fidgeting and movi 
about as though unable to contain himself. 

** She is wounded, but not killed. See ! she is 
coming in to shore." 

The canoe of the Frontier Angel was now hun /- 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


197 


ing in toward the Kentucky shore, swiftly followed 
by that of the renegade. She had approached so 
nigh as to be hidden to the view of those at the 
block-house, but was still at a considerable distance. 
It was at this moment that the Indian accompany- 
ing McGable dropped his paddle, rose to his feet, 
and had the gun already at his shoulder, when two 
simultaneous reports were heard, and he threw his 
arms wildly over his head and sprang headlong into 
the river, upsetting the canoe at the same time. Mc- 
Gable, who was a most excellent swimmer, dove 
deep and came up a long way from the canoe, whose 
bottom formed a black spot on the surface. His 
head hardly appeared before it sank again, and Din- 
gle and Peterson really believed he was drowning. 
But it was only a feint of the wary wretch. His 
head was descried still farther down-stream, when 
it finally disappeared altogether. , But, after a while, 
he was seen to rise too far away to be within rifle- 
range, and walked away in the forest. 

The reason of his escaping all the shots of the 
whites was this. In the hurry of departure, Mans- 
field had never once thought of taking his rifle with 
him, so that there were really but two shots. Dingle 
and Peterson had hurried to their utmost, notwith- 
standing the remark of the commander, who was 
not so situated as to be able rightly to judge of 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


198 

duration. Upon coming in view, they both raised 
their guns together and took aim at the form of the 
renegade. That instant the savage rose and aimed 
at the Frontier Angel. His immediate death could 
only save her; there was no time for consultation, 
so that one might accomplish this. The danger was 
too imminent, and, naturally enough, they both 
fired together. The canoe instantly upset, and the 
skillful manner in which the renegade effected his 
own escape has already been shown. 

Our three friends remained watching for his re- 
appearance, until it was made at a great distance 
down-stream. This, of course, was a considerable 
time after the shooting of the Indian, and during the 
interval their attention had never once been directed 
to the Frontier Angel. Now, as they turned to look 
for her, she was nowhere to be seen. Remembering 
the point toward which she was hastening, they 
searched along the shore, and, at last, found her 
canoe, pulled high upon the bank and secreted be- 
neath the bushes, but there were no signs of her. A 
careful examination of the canoe and the ground 
around, failed to show the least sign of blood, so 
that they were compelled to the joyful belief that 
she had escaped the shot of McGable without being 
even wounded. 

How this could be, the two rangers were at a loss 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


199 

to tell, for the renegade was so close at hand, and 
the object was so well-presented, that even an 
ordinary marksman could scarcely have failed. 

“ That settles the matter, said Dingle, compress- 
ing his lips and shaking his head ; ** that’s the second 
time he’s tried to kill her and couldn’t do it. I 
s’pose some will say she ain’t a sperit now — but you 
needn’t tell Dick Dingle so.” 

“ Nor Jim Peterson,” added that individual him- 
self. 

‘‘There ain’t even a trail of her, and she ain’t 
nowhere about h'yer — she’s gone up, she has. You 
might shoot at her all day, and not hurt her. H’yers 
as don’t undertake any such foolery as to warn her 
— ’cause why ? thar ain’t no need of it. She ain’t in 
danger, and never was or will be.” 

“ Wonder why she don’t kill that devil McGable ? ” 
remarked Peterson, leaning on his rifle and gazing 
meditatively down the river. 

“ She’ll give it to him awful ’fore he gets through 
— see ef she don’t. His time ain’t come yet.” 

Some further time was spent in similar remarks, 
when the three set out for the block-house It was 
the intention of Dingle and Peterson to start for 
the Shawnee towns, but the commander instructed 
them to remain over until the next morning, when, 
if nothing unusual happened, they would be allowed 


200 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


to pursue their journey. The rangers were not 
very unwilling to this, as the sky gave appearance 
of another storm, and the adventure with McGable 
had its effect upon them. 

The morrow came, but the rangers went not, 
and it was ordered that they never should again. 


i 

I 

i 


THE FRONTIER ANQEL. 


201 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE ATTACK IN THE WOOD. 

The storm which threatened during the after- 
noon broke forth toward night and raged until 
morning. Little rain fell, but the wind was ter- 
rific, as it howled around the settlement and 
screamed through the forest. What rain fell came 
almost horizontally, and rattled like hailstones 
against the cabins. 

All night long the dim, yellow light burned in 
the block-house, and the shadowy form of a shiver- 
ing sentinel was never absent from the platform. 
It was such a night as to make one relish the com- 
forts of a shelter. Chilly, windy, and dismal with- 
out, it was all light and sunshine within. A huge fire 
of hickory logs was roaring in the fireplace, lighting 
up the bronzed faces of the hunters and rangers 
without the aid of the torch that smoked further 
back in the room. Now and then the men were 
furnished with drinks of whisky, and their spirits 


202 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


were light and jovial. Dingle and Peterson were 
there, relating and listening to stories as usual, 
and “ all went merry as a marriage-bell.” 

Little apprehension of an attack was felt, as the 
late repulse had taught the Indians a lesson which 
they could not but heed. The shivering sentinel 
paced his walk, slowly and gloomily, while the keen 
wind whistled round his ears. As he heard the 
merry laugh of those within, he breathed more 
than one earnest prayer that the time would hurry 
by and bring a relief to take his place. He could 
not be said to keep a very vigilant watch, as the 
darkness was so intense as to prevent; and when 
the windy rain was hurtled in his face, he felt more 
like covering it up with his great cloak than in 
peering toward the hoarse, soughing wilderness. 
He had first whistled a tune, then hummed it, and 
was now counting his steps, to pass away the time. 
He had calculated the number of turns he should be 
compelled to make before his watch would be up, 
and was now noting by this means the minutes as 
they slipped away. 

His watch extended from nine o’clock until mid- 
night. About half of it had transpired, and he was 
completely absorbed in enumerating his steps, when 


TUE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


203 


he was brought to a sudden stand-still, and felt a 
thrilling chill creep over him, as a voice, faint and 
suppressed, but yet distinct and clear, called out 
from the direction of the clearing : 

“ Hello there?’’ 

The sentinel stopped abruptly and looked in the 
direction from which the voice came. Once, it 
seemed, the outlines of a man was discernible, but 
it was only an illusion. He reflected that it might 
be an artifice, and hesitated before replying. ‘‘ It’s 
like enough he wants to find out where I stand, and 
then blaze away. However, I’ll fix it so that I can 
answer him.” 

Leaning himself as much as possible behind the 
protection of the platform, he called out: 

“ What’s wanting out there ? ” 

‘‘Admittance; I am half frozen to death. Will 
you let me in ? ” 

“ You must wait till morning, my dear sir.” 

“ But I will perish. Have you a man in the fort 
named Jim Peterson ? ” 

“ Yes ; what of it? ” 

“ Call him ; he will admit me if you will not.” 

“ I don’t know about that. Who are you ? ” 

“ Tell him Madison Drake wishes to see him.” 


2Q4 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


The sentinel was too wary to leave his post. 
He suspected that this was a stratagem of the man 
to attack the gates ; and yet, he reflected, that if he 
was innocent of any evil design, it was not right 
that he should be denied shelter. The commander 
had given imperative orders that no one should 
unfasten the gates after nightfall. So the sentinel 
adopted an artifice. He answered that he would 
call Peterson, and, at the same moment opened and 
closed the door. But he shut himself upon the 
outside, and remained a few moments listening. 
Hearing nothing, he concluded it was no risk to 
call the ranger. Accordingly he partly opened the 
door, put his head in quickly, and said in a loud 
tone : 

Peterson, there is a man named Madison Drake 
out here who wants to see you.’' 

Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Peterson 
it could not have startled him more. He was in 
the midst of a story, all life and animation, when the 
gruff words of the sentinel broke in so abruptly 
upon him. And yet it was not the words alone, 
but the name pronounced that so affected him, for 
Jim Peterson would have taken his solemn oath 
that that man was killed months before. He was 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


20 $ 


sure of it, and what could the sentinel mean by 
breaking in upon them with such intelligence? He 
looked around upon the faces all turned expectantly 
toward him, waiting for the remainder of his story. 
He believed he must have been mistaken. 

‘‘ What did that feller say ? '' he asked, looking 
half ashamed at asking the question. 

“ He said there was a man named Drake who 
wanted to see you. What makes you look so scared, 
Jim; I hope you don’t owe him anything.” 

“ Wal, by the eternal, that gits my time. Ef that 
man’s alive, then I’ll swear that men don’t die now- 
a-days unless they want to.” 

“ Why, what’s up now ? ” asked Dingle. 

“ Don’t you remember that name ? ” asked Peter- 
son, turning towards our hero. 

“ I was just thinking I had heard it somewhere.” 

“ Wal, sir, he was on the flat-boat with me 
when all was killed ’cepting me. Yes, sir.” 

Peterson shook his head meaningly and slapped 
his hand upon his knee as he uttered these words : 

“ Like enough it’s him,” said Dingle, Freeze me 
to death, if you can tell what’s goin’ to happen now- 
a-days.” 

“It may be a decoy of McGable,” added the 


2o6 


TEE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


commander. ‘‘ It is unnecessary to caution you, 
Peterson. Nevertheless, I will accompany you.’’ 

The two went out on the platform. The wind 
was so strong as to nearly lift them off their 
feet, and the darkness so great that they harely 
discerned the form of the sentinel beside them. 

Where is he ? ” asked the commander. 

He will speak in a minute.” 

They listened, and finally the suffering man called 
out : 

Hello there, sentinel ; hain’t Peterson come out 
yet?” 

Yes, here I am ; what do you want ? ” replied 
and asked the ranger. 

Don’t you know me, Peterson? Don’t you 
remember Madison Drake who was on the flat- 
boat with you ? ” 

Yes ; but the one I knowed war killed that night. 
Be you him ? ” 

“ I am he. I was not killed, although well-nigh 
so. But, if you will not admit me, I will not live 
long, as I am nearly perished now.” 

“ Have patience, Drake, a few minutes and I will 
see about it.” 

“ Do you believe he is not trying to deceive us ? ” 
asked the commander, in a low tone. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


207 

“That’s his voice — I’d swear to it ’mong ten 
thousand. But I’ll swear, too, that he has been 
killed once ! ” 

“ Fudge! Jim, you ain’t such a fool as that? Go 
down and let him in, if you ain’t afraid. Remem- 
ber what I said and be careful.” 

The ranger, without a word, turned and made 
his way downward. As he passed out toward the 
gate, it was not without considerable misgivings 
and a hearty wish that matters and things in gen- 
eral would not take it into their head to assume 
such mysterious and inexplicable a form to him. 
He had no fear of anything mortal, but he would 
have rather faced a dozen yelling Shawnees than 
the ghostly apparition which he believed was wait- 
ing for him upon the outside. 

“ Where’n thunder ar’ you ? ” he demanded 
spitefully as he approached the gate. 

“ Here, just on the outside, half chilled to death,” 
was the reply from the rattling teeth of the sufferer. 

“ Sure there ain’t no reds about as ar’ goin’ to 
try to dodge in atween your legs ? ” 

“ No, no ; and in Heaven’s name, how much 
longer are you going to keep me here ? ” 

“ Wal, you needn’t be so cross ’bout it.” 


2o8 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


With these words, Peterson cautiously unbarred 
the gate, and opened a small space. Instantly, a 
cold, wet skeleton-apparition glided through and 
stood trembling beside him. 

‘‘How are you, Jim? You don’t appear glad to 
see me,” it said, pushing a cold, bony hand toward 
him. 

“Just wait — wait till I fasten this gate and then 
I’ll go up to the block-house with you,” replied the 
ranger, working at the massive bolts, and at the same 
time, glancing furtively over his shoulder, at what 
he believed to be a veritable ghost beside him. 

“ Now, give us your hand, Jim, for, if ever a 
white man was glad to see another, I am glad to 
see you: Jeh-u-u-u! ain't it cold?” exclaimed the 
apparition desperately, as a regular spasmodic shock 
shook him, and apparently ejected the words in a 
most unceremonious hurry from his rattling teeth. 
Peterson could not refuse the proffered hand; but, 
as he took it, he felt a cold chill crawl, from the 
finger ends of the ghost, up through his arms, clean 
to the crown of his head where it seemed to halt, 
gather in a big mass, and then separating into a 
number of arrowy needles, shoot through every part 
of his system, even contracting his very toes. 

“How — how'r yer — ’tis cold — let’s go in,” he 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


209 

said, turning toward the block-house, and walking 
hurriedly away. 

We should like to know whether any of our 
readers have been in a situation, where their greatest 
desire has been to get ahead as fast as possible, and 
yet they felt ashamed to either look behind them, 
or to increase their gait. If they have, they can 
appreciate the peculiar sensations of the really 
brave-hearted Peterson. Imagine yourself, on a 
dark night, when within a few rods of your own 
door, where you know your friends are peering into 
the darkness in expectation of your momentary 
arrival — we say imagine that, just at that moment, 
you hear a footfall behind you ! You start and your 
heart commences to throb, and you hastily debate 
whether it is best to walk unconcernedly along, as 
though such a thing as fear never entered your 
head, or to glance behind you, and break into a 
regular run for the door. But ridicule, more 
potent than fear, prevents you, and you walk, it is 
true, a little faster, but as you push open the door, 
you cannot help shoving yourself in rather hurriedly, 
as your friends judge. 

It was with feelings somewhat similar to these, 
that Peterson walked toward the block-house, his 
unwelcome visitor stalking after him. 

** H’yer we is,’^ he exclaimed, as he ushered him 


210 


THE FRONTIER ANQEL. 


into the warm glowing room of the block-house, 
where the hardy backwoodsmen sat conversing. 

'' A dismal night, gentlemen,” said Drake, bowing 
to the men, and approaching the fire, against which 
he turned his back and gazed composedly at the 
men. ‘‘ A regular snorter this night is ; thought 
I’d freeze to death. Jeh-u-u-u ! that fire feels good. 
But I can’t blame you for your tardiness and 
suspicion in such times as these Though Mad 
Anthony has taught the Indians manners, it seems 
that they forget them once in a while.” 

The hunters were not men to sit silent and 
unsocial when a stranger claimed their hospitality. 
They saw it was no ghost, but a veritable flesh and 
blood human being who stood before them. He 
was a tall, cadaverous-looking man, his face all hair 
and eyes, and yet his voice showed him to be a 
good-natured gentleman. His garments were soaked 
with water, which slowly dropped from his ragged 
shirt, and every turn of his clothes, and steamed 
constantly from them on account of his proximity to 
the fire. He was without weapons of any kind. 
Without waiting as long as it has taken us to 
introduce this description, the commander replied: 

‘‘A cold and dismal night indeed. Let me give 
you something to warm you within, for it is plain 
y^ou need it.” 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


211 


Thank you,” replied Drake, taking the proffered 
cup of raw whiskey and swallowing it. No more, 
thank you. I feel considerably better now.” 

“ Why, Drake, that is you,” suddenly exclaimed 
Peterson ; give us your hand and tell us how you 
are getting along.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! has it taken you all this time to dis- 
cover my identity? I thought you acted strangely 
when you admitted me into the gate.” 

I own up. Mat, I took you for a spook, and it 
goes hard yet to think as how it is you standin’ 
thar lookin’ so jolly, when the last I seed of you, 
you had knocked under. Come, you’ve got warmed 
up a little, let’s hear how it was.” 

“ Well, I will.” 

And thereupon, the new-comer related his ex- 
perience, which may be summed up briefly, as fol- 
lows : 

This Madison Drake, as the reader has probably 
suspected, was one of the number on the flat-boat, 
whose sad fate was related at the commencement of 
this work. When the Shawnees made their rush 
upon it, he, with all the rest, was too bewildered to 
offer the slightest resistance. He remembered see- 
ing Peterson spring overboard, and attempted to fol- 
low him; but he was not soon enough to escape a 
terrible blow from an Indian’s tomahawk. As he 


212 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


descended into the water, his wound rendered him 
perfectly ci:azy, and, without knowing it, he swam 
in to the Ohio shore. Here he was immediately 
seized by several savages, who made no attempt to 
offer him further injury. After the massacre was 
completed, the Indians assembled upon the bank, 
and the others then noticed his presence. But, 
instead of killing him, a strange whim possessed 
them to spare his life. He was too frightened to 
utter a complaint about the horrible wound in his 
back, as he knew it would be relieved only by death. 
They traveled all night and most of the next day 
without halting. After a time, they reached the 
Shawnee towns in the Sciota Valley, where he had 
remained a prisoner until the day before. An 
opportunity had then offered of escaping, which he 
- instantly seized. He knew the location of the settle- 
ment and made all haste toward it, where, as shown, 
he effected his arrival. 

All listened breathlessly to this recital. Before 
he had fairly finished, Peterson asked : 

** Are you the only one. Mat, ^ceptin* me that got 
off?^’ 

‘‘ I am the only one.” 

“ Are you sure ? Did you ever hear anything of 
Marian ? ” 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL,. 


213 

** 1 am sure I am the only person the Indians took 
from that boat.” 

But, I follered them that night and part of the 
next day, and I didn’t see nothin’ of you, and you 
might seen nothin’ of her.” 

Our party just after starting, separated and 
did not reunite until just before we reached the 
Shawnee towns. You followed the wrong one. 
You might easily have done this, as both parties 
were large. No; do not hope that Marian or any 
one besides us had escaped, I could not have helped 
knowing it.” 

“ That settles the matter, then,” said the com- 
mander, we will tell Abbot, in the morning. Poor 
man I I pity him and his wife.” 

“ Is he here ? ” asked Drake, “ I do pity him then ; 
it was a hard blow for him.” 

“ But, I have heard,” continued the commander, 
who saw that Mansfield was painfully affected, 
“ that there was a female captive among them.” 

“ Yes ; there was one ; but she was captured 
from a settler on the Virginia frontier. Poor crea- 
ture! she died long ago from her sufferings. But, 
friend^, you will excuse me I trust. I have had a 
hard run for freedom; and, if you have no objec- 
tions, I will now turn in for the night.” 


214 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


Certainly ; let me help you to another snifter, to 
make you sleep soundly.” 

Drake did not refuse the offered drink. At it 
was now late, the sentinel was called in, another 
sent to take his place, and those within stretched 
themselves out upon the floor, where, wrapped in 
their blankets, they were soon oblivious to external 
things. 

All excepting Mansfield, who sat listening to the 
howling wind without, and gazing into the glowing 
embers with feelings which we shall not attempt to 
describe. 

When the morning broke, the slumberers were 
astir. The storm cleared off toward daybreak, and 
the sun came out bright and cold. Mansfield, who 
had not slept one moment, arose and took himself 
toward Abbot’s house with a heavy, painful heart. 
Deeming that it would be a relief to his wife to 
hear his intelligence, he introduced it before them 
both, stating what Drake had said and that there 
could now be no room for further hope. It would 
be presumption, they all felt, to entertain the 
slightest hope that Marian could still be living. 

“ I have cherished no hope of again seeing her 
on earth,” said the mother. “ I thank my heavenly 
Father that I am satisfied now that she was killed 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


215 

outright. I have nothing now to do but to wait 
until He calls me to rejoin her.^" 

“ Let us go patiently at work, dear wife,” said 
Abbot. It is a relief to know that she was killed 
at once. It was a bitter cup for us to drink, but 
we have swallowed the bitterest portion. I thank 
God for this intelligence. And, you, Russel, is 
this a relief to you ? ” 

Yes,” he faintly answered, turning his head 
away. 

And so the hope which had been exhumed and 
fanned into a feeble life died again and was now 
reburied. 

The expedition of search by the rangers for 
Marian, of course was now given up. It was still 
their determination to capture McGable, but the 
attempt was reluctantly deferred until a few months 
later, when it was rightly judged the caution of the 
renegade would be worn off, and an opportunity 
would present itself. 

It was decided by a number of settlers to spend 
most of the time in the wood, felling trees. It was 
necessary to collect a large quantity of fuel, — ^besides 
it was in contemplation to erect one or two cabins. 
This was one of the duties, devolving upon the 
settlement, which was always dangerous, and yet 
one that must be done sooner or later. 


2i6 the frontier angel. 

So, a company of men numbering over a dozen, 
including Abbot, Mansfield, and Peterson, passed 
through the gate, across the clearing, each bearing 
a rifle and an ax. It was quite early in the fore- 
noon; therefore they calculated upon doing a good 
day's work. 

The spot selected for their operations, was three 
or four hundred yards from the clearing. Here 
they stacked their rifles and scattered themselves 
in such a manner, that the weapons would be safe 
from the reach of any foe, and commenced their 
labors right merrily. The clear ring of their axes, 
the fall of the trees like a rumble of thunder, and 
the shout and song, could be heard at the block- 
house and settlement. 

They wrought vigorously until noon when they 
ceased, and seating themselves upon the fallen 
trees, partook of the lunch they had brought with 
them. They sat close together, joking and laugh- 
ing, their faces all aglow with good-humor and 
exercise. The meal was finished, and several of 
the men had risen to recommence their labors, when 
a crashing in the undergrowth was heard, and the 
next moment the Frontier Angel burst in upon them, 
her arm^s outstretched, her hair flying, her eyes all 
agleam, and her whole appearance that of a raving 
lunatic. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


2iy 

“ Quick ! quick ! ” she exclaimed ; fly ! he is 
coming ! he is coming with a lot of Indians ! No — 
you can’t reach the fort — they are on that side of 
you ! Take your guns quick ! they are going to kill 
you all ! ” 

Hardly were her words finished, before each man 
had seized his rifle, and stood waiting the orders of 
some one of their number. 

“ Get down between these two trees — I hear their 
tread ! ” commanded Mansfield, whose ears, quick- 
ened to supernatural strength, distinctly caught their 
tramp through the forest. Hurry, boys, they’re 
here!” 

At the same instant he bounded over the fallen 
tree beside him, followed by all of the men, when, 
in a twinkling, they were so disposed that nothing 
but their heads and rifle-barrels were visible. Then, 
as they looked for the foe, they saw with horror 
that the Frontier Angel was still standing as if 
transfixed upon the same spot where she had uttered 
her warning. 

“ Fly, for God’s sake ! ” exclaimed Mansfield, 
springing to his feet, and excitedly waving his hand 
toward her. “Fly, for your life. Frontier Angel! 
There they come ! ” 

As he spoke she turned to flee, and, at the same 
moment, the sharp crack of a rifle was heard. She 


2I8 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


gave a scream, swung her arms wildly over her 
head and staggered further into the wood, where 
she was concealed from view. The woodman had 
no time to follow her, for immediately there was 
heard a rushing, and, as the bushes parted, near 
a score of Indians, led by McGable, bounded into 
the opening. As they caught sight of the settlers, 
they poured a deadly volley in upon them, whose 
fearful effect was told by more than one yell of 
agony. 

Now charge, boys ! ” exclaimed Mansfield, 
springing over the log and dashing straight at the 
yelling savages. There was an electric power in his 
words that thrilled every heart, and they charged 
with such enthusiasm after their gallant leader, that 
it was irresistible. The Indians were unprepared 
for any such movement. When nigh enough to 
touch them with their gun-muzzles, every rifle of 
the whites was discharged, and then swung over 
their heads. 

“ At them ! ’’ shouted Mansfield ; “ don’t spare 
one ! ” 

The rifles came down with murderous force, and, 
for a few moments, one of the fiercest hand-to-hand 
contests raged. But the number of the whites, after 
their discharge, was fully equal to the savages, and 
their fury could not be withstood. The Indians, in 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


219 


a short time, broke and scattered in the wood, and 
the panting whites suddenly gazed into each other’s 
faces as they saw there was no foe left to encounter. 

“ Have they fled ? ” asked Mansfield, in astonish- 
ment. 

‘‘ Not one is left — all are killed or fled! Any of 
us slain ? ” 

‘'Yes; I heard some one groan when we started.” 

The whites turned back to the logs where they 
had first sheltered themselves; here they found two 
of their number dead, both having received a bullet 
through the brain, while several others had been 
given severe cuts. 

A moment after, a dozen more men arrived from 
the block-house. They had heard the firing in 
the wood, and had been instantly dispatched by the 
commander; but their help was not needed, as not 
a foe was left, so signal had been the repulse. But, 
for the timely warning of the Frontier Angel, a 
most fearful massacre must have taken place. 
Several of the settlers picked up the two dead men 
and carried them to the settlement, as the commander 
had instructed them to return the minute they could. 
Mansfield, Peterson, Dingle, and Jenkins (the latter 
having come with the reinforcement) remiained be- 
hind. Four Shawnees lay doubled up in death, 
while a fifth was rolling, and clutching, and fling- 


220 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


ing the leaves in his agony. Shortly, to the relief 
of all, death put him out of his misery. 

‘‘ Who was killed ? ” asked Peterson. 

Smith and Thompson,'’ replied Mansfield. 

‘‘ Both single men ; it is good for them that they 
have no women or children to mourn ’em. We’ve 
straightened out five of them, besides hacking a few 
more. By gracious, isn’t that McGable h’yer? Ef 
I didn’t hit him, then I’ll never shoot agin,” asked 
Peterson. 

“ He appears to have escaped. What is to be 
done with these dead Indians ? ” 

“ Why, leave ’em h’yer for the varmint, after we 
raises thar ha’r.” 

In Heaven’s name, Peterson, you are not going 
to do that ? ” 

I reckon I is. Eh, Dick?” 

“ In course, we must have their top-knots,” 
replied Dingle, producing his hunting-knife. 

** You are as much a savage as they are,” said 
Mansfield, turning his back upon the sickening 
scene. 

The two rangers were not to be deterred from 
scalping the Indians, although they had enough 
respect for the feelings of Mansfield, to go through 
the disgusting operation without their usual remark 
and braggadocio. 


THE FRONXIER ANOEL. 


221 


‘‘ They’d ’ve been glad to ’ve done that same thing 
for us,” said Peterson. 

“ Freeze me,” said Dingle, ‘‘ if I don’t believe thar 
is more of ’em round h’yer. S’posen we take a 
look? Jenkins, look through the bushes thar by 
you.” 

“ All, including Mansfield, now commenced 
searching the wood to see whether any of their 
number had crawled away to die in secret. Jenkins 
had beat about but a few minutes, when he ex- 
claimed : 

“ Come here, quick ! there’s somebody under this 
bush ! Just hear him groan ! ” 

All hastened thither; and, as Dingle pulled aside 
the bush, the white, ghastly face of the renegade 
McGable was seen turned toward them. 

“ I thought I’d give you your last sickness,” said 
Peterson, with a shocking want of feeling. 

Oh ! let me alone, I am dying ! ” wailed the 
miserable wretch. 

All feelings except pity left the heart of Mansfield, 
as he saw the poor man in his last moments. He 
hastily ran back, and, seizing an ax, cut away the 
bushes around him, so that the air could reach him. 
It was then seen that he had received the bullet of 
Peterson in his side. He was leaning upon his 
elbow, spitting blood, while his hands closed rigidly 


222 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


over the wound, and the blood oozed through them 
and pattered upon the leaves beneath. 

Can I do anything for you ? ” asked Mansfield, 
kneeling down beside him and opening his hunting- 
shirt. 

Oh, no ! I can^t live long. I deserve to die, but 
I don’t want to. I thought — ” 

He paused as the blood in his throat choked him. 
Peterson and Dingle were both touched by his 
misery, and silently withdrew, followed shortly by 
Jenkins. Mansfield saw that he was alone, and 
determined to do his duty to the dying man. 

“ McGable, you are dying, it is true. Put away 
now all thoughts of this world, and turn your heart 
toward the hereafter. Your sins are great, but 
there is a God whose mercy is sufficient for every- 
thing.” 

“ Do not talk of God and mercy to me,” said the 
man with a look so full of horrible torment, that 
Mansfield shuddered to his very soul. “ The day 
of mercy has passed with me. A thousand years 
could not atone for the crimes I have committed. 
If you can forgive me, Mansfield — ” 

I forgive you all, and so does Abbot — fear noth- 
ing of that.” 

‘‘ I have harmed you and him more than you have 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


223 

dreamed. Oh ! this wound ! Can you not stay the 
flow?’^ 

McGable removed his hand as he spoke, and 
before Mansfield could stanch it, such a quantity 
of blood spouted forth, that the miserable man 
fainted. The forgiving man bandaged it as well as 
he was able, and presently the sufferer revived. 

I have harmed you more than you suspect,’^ he 
said, faintly, turning his dark eyes, all woe and 
misery, to him. 

You have not. What do you mean?^^ 

Marian ! ” 

How ? — what ? — McGable, you will not refuse 
me now.’"* 

“ Mansfield, in a few minutes, you will have seen 
a monster die. Let me adjure you to remember it 
to your last breath. The pain of my wound is noth- 
ing to what I suffer in spirit. The awful torment 
is unutterable — ’’ 

“ But what of Marian ? gently reminded Mans- 
field. 

“ Marian is — muttered the man dropping his 
head back on Mansfield’s arm and gasping for 
breath, " Marian was not killed on the dat-hoat that 
night! '' 

“ What do you say ? ” fairly shrieked our hero, 
believing that his mind was wandering. 


224 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


** Marian was not killed that night t — hut I killed 
her! — I see her angel face now! — Oh! is this 
death? 

The renegade McGable was dead! 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


225 


CHAPTER XV. 
all's well that ends well.” 

As the death-rattle was heard in McGable’s 
throat, Mansfield felt his head fall back upon his 
arm. He looked down and saw that all was over. 
Laying his head gently back upon the leaves, he 
straightened his limbs, and arose and looked around 
for his companions. Peterson and Jenkins ap- 
proached. 

“ It is all over,” said our hero, sadly. “ Poor 
man! he has paid dearly for his sins. I pray 
Heaven, I may never witness another such a death ! 
Have you found any other bodies ? ” 

We have not looked ; Dingle is searching.” 

“ Let us look further. We will return this after- 
noon and bury McGable. Ah I here comes Dingle ! 
What can be the matter with him, he looks so 
flustered ? ” 

The ranger approached them, pale and agitated. 


226 FRONTIER ANQEL. 

Boys, the Frontier Angel sits out yonder on 

A LOG, AND SHE IS DYIN’ ! 

Without a word, Mansfield dashed toward the 
point indicated. The others followed less rapidly, 
for that singular fear of the mysterious being for- 
sook them not, even at the last moment. A few 
rods brought them to the spot. 

That personage, known as the Frontier Angel in 
these pages, was sitting upon one of the trees, felled 
by the choppers, her hand pressed to her forehead, 
and her elbows resting upon her knees. She sat 
perfectly motionless, and a sickening fear that she 
was already dead took possession of Mansfield. The 
blood could be seen dropping from her face down 
upon one of her moccasins, which was clotted and 
stained with it. She did not look up as our friends 
approached, and Mansfield paused before her and 
asked : 

“ Are you hurt much ? 

Oh ! I feel wretched — '' 

Mansfield sprang forward and caught her head 
as she fainted. The sight made even the hardy 
rangers shudder. A rough wound was seen at the 
temple, from which a great amount of blood had 
issued. Her dark, waving hair hung loose around 
her shoulders, while her half-closed eyes gave an 
unearthly terror to her countenance. 



I 



THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


229 

“ Quick 1 water ! she has fainted ! ” exclaimed 
Mansfield. 

Peterson sprang away, and in an instant returned 
with a jug of water which had been brought by 
the woodmen in the morning for their use. Mans- 
field sprinkled some in her face, and in a moment 
she revived. Dingle, with ready wit, had prepared 
a bandage by tearing his hunting-shirt to shreds, 
and this was carefully bound over her forehead. 

She must be taken to the block-house at once. 
Bear a hand, friends,*’ said Mansfield to the two 
rangers who were looking on. That absurd fear 
made them hesitate for a moment ; but, as if ashamed 
of their weakness at such a time, they sprang for- 
ward and made amends by sustaining her entire 
weight themselves. 

“ Run ahead, Jenkins, and notify the commander 
of this,” said Mansfield, ” and see that no crowd is 
in our way.” 

Jenkins darted away, and the three moved care- 
fully through the wood toward the clearing. An 
occasional moan from their burden was the only 
sign of life she gave. Not a word was spoken by 
the three, as they made their way forward. The 
rangers hardly dared to look down upon the form 
their arms sustained, but gazed anxiously toward the 
block-house, evidently in fear of a curious multi- 


230 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


tude of people. The commander, with praiseworthy 
foresight, had unbarred the gates, and prepared the 
block-house for her reception. Though nearly 
struck dumb with Jenkinses intelligence, he did 
not allow it to interfere with his duty. He briefly 
informed those gathered around what had happened, 
and besought them- to retire and leave the way clear 
for him. So, when Mansfield and the rangers 
brought their charge, there were only one or two 
to receive them. 

Is it a bad wound ? ” he asked, as he closed the 
doors of the block-house behind him. 

“ I fear so ; you will have to take charge of her.^^ 
Place her on the litter, and remain with me a 
moment.” 

The commander of the fort was the physician of 
the settlement. It may seem strange that a man 
holciing his position, could find time to attend to the 
duties thus devolving upon him. But he did find 
abundant time; for it must be remembered, that 
such a thing as sickness is rarely known in a frontier 
settlement. The time when his services were in 
requisition, was upon an occasion like the present, 
directly after an engagement with an enemy. 

After the sufferer had been placed in the lower 
room of the block-house, the commander desired all 
to depart, so that he might be left alone with her. 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


231 

His determination was to make an examination of 
her wound at once. He saw that she was hurt only 
in the corner of the forehead, where it seemed was 
a slight fracture of the bone. 

As he approached the bed, the Frontier Angel 
sprang to her feet and screan>ed for him to keep 
away. He did his best to pacify her, but she became 
more frantic each moment, until he desisted out of 
fear of the consequences. After a time she seated 
herself upon the bed, and speaking in a soothing 
manner, he gently approached her again. But she 
was wilder than before, and he retreated at once. 
From her actions, she seemed to imagine him to be 
the renegade McGable, and no words upon his part 
could change the impression. 

The good physician sat a while in a dilemma. He 
saw it was imperatively necessary that her wound 
should be attended to, and it was impossible for 
him to do this alone. After debating a moment, he 
called in Mansfield and Peterson. 

The latter entered, and the sufferer meekly sub- 
mitted at once. Mansfield took her gently but 
firmly by one arm, and the ranger held the other. 
The physician then stepped forward, and, with a 
simple instrument, examined the wound. A mo- 
ment showed him the entire truth. A bullet, years 
before, had glanced over the forehead in such a 


232 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


manner as to press inward a thin strip of bone 
directly upon the brain. This simple fact had 
caused that singular hallucination which she had so 
long evinced. The wound had become cicatrized, 
leaving the bone in this position. Another shot, 
precisely similar, had glanced in the same manner, 
reopening the wound and increasing her aberration. 
A simple action of the physician removed this cause 
of her insanity. 

‘‘ Just wash the wound, Mansfield,'' said the com- 
mander, and we will then let her rest until morn- 
ing.” 

Our hero proceeded to do as requested. A mo- 
ment later he exclaimed in a suppressed voice: 

“ My heavens ! see here — she is white 1 " 

Such was indeed the case, and the astonishment 
of all was unbounded. The water had washed off 
that species of paint so commonly used among the 
American Indians, and left the skin perfectly clear 
and transparent. 

Wonderful ! " exclaimed the commander, what 
can it mean? As it is nearly all removed from 
her face, it shows what a beautiful woman she is. 
Hello ! what's the matter with Peterson ? " 

The ranger had turned as pale as death and 
fainted — a weakness of which he had never been 
guilty before. Mansfield instantly dashed some 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


233 

water in his face and he came to. He stared about 
him totally bewildered. 

“ Why, what's the matter, Jim ? " laughed the 
commander. “ Are you so tender-hearted that you 
must faint when a female is hurt ? " 

Get me out of here, quick, if you value her 
life ! " he said, staggering to his feet. 

He was assisted to the door, where the physician 
asked : 

“ What does this mean, Jim ? " 

“ ril tell you in the morning ; don’t say anything 
to me about it now. Just bring her to her senses 
as soon as you can.” 

Wondering and perplexed, the commander passed 
into the room again. As he entered, he naturally . 
turned his eyes toward his patient, and it was now 
his turn to evince the agitation that had seized the 
ranger. 

‘'What’s the matter with you, doctor?” asked 
Mansfield. 

“My heavens! I know that girl!** 

“Who is she?” 

“ Never mind now. I understand the meaning 
of Peterson’s conduct. Leave me alone, Russel, 
and it shall all be made plain to you in the morning.” 

Our hero withdrew, and the commander was 
left alone with that being who has figured as the 


234 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


Frontier Angel in these pages. She sat bolt upright 
in the bed, staring at him with a look as fixed and 
intense as that of a wild animal. 

Lie down, Myra!'' he spoke gently. 

Lie down I she repeated half to herself. 

What does all this mean ? — Why am I here ? — 
Have I been wounded? — Why is my head ban- 
daged? — ^Am I dreaming?” 

The commander approached and laid her head 
back upon the pillow. In this position she pressed 
her hand to her forehead and commenced muttering 
to herself. The commander listened, and now and 
then caught her words. 

“ Reason has returned, or is now striving to regain 
its place,” he thought. “ She is, in fact, in her right 
mind already, but it is no wonder that her recollec- 
tions still confuse her. Strange ! strange ! who 
would have thought the Frontier Angel could have 
been herf " 

Soon the patien" ^"- pt — a troubled, dreamy sleep. 
She talked incessantly — now an soft, beseeching 
tones to Peterson and Holmes (the commander), 
then fairly shrieking the name of McGable, and once 
or twice she spoke the name of Marian Abbot! 

The wind howled around the old block-house, 
moaning through the forest and ridging the Ohio 
till the dismal beat of its waves could be heard, 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


235 

when an occasional lull occurred. The rain rattled 
through the village like the incessant volleys of 
shot, and the pale flickering light shining through 
the loop-holes of the fort was the only visible sign 
of life. 

The commander paced the floor a while and then 
sat down and gazed into the face of the sufferer. 
Her eyes were closed and her face was of unearthly 
whiteness. Now and then the thin lips moved and 
the broken words came forth. Once the brow com- 
pressed as if a twinge of pain ran through her, and 
then she started and gasped: 

“ Oh, don’t ! don’t ! McGable, you will kill her ! 
Let her alone ! ” 

What can she mean ? ” wondered Holmes. 

Yes — it is Marian — there! she spoke her name 
then.” 

All at once, the patient came to the sitting posi- 
tion, and opening her eyes to their fullest extent, 
stared apparently through the very walls of the 
block-house out into the wilderness. Then, raising 
her hand, she repeated these words : 

I see them I — they are hastening to the cave !• — 
they will kill her! — she cannot get away! — she will 
die!” 

“ You are excited — lie down again ! ” pleaded the 


236 FRONTIER ANGEL, 

commander. But she heeded him not. Her dark 
eyes glowed with tenfold light, and she added; 

“ I see them ! they are Indians going to kill 
Marian Abbot! There are two Shawnee warriors, 
and they are now picking their way through the 
forest. She will die ! she will die, if she is not saved 
at once 1 

The patient seemed as if speaking in a trance. 
She was in that state which baffles all human knowl- 
edge to understand, and, without attempting to ex- 
plain what never can be understood, we give the 
facts alone. What the Frontier Angel saw on that 
stormy night, when neither the impenetrable walls 
of the block-house, nor the miles of wilderness could 
bound her vision, was really occurring. And the 
commander, rapt, wondering, and believing, listened. 
When she had finished, she turned toward him. 

Franklin Holmes, I understand all, not all 
either ; but I feel I have passed through some dread- 
ful darkness, and light is again dawning upon me. 
There is a white captive in danger this moment. 
She must be rescued ! I can lead the way ! ” 

“ But — but, Myra, you cannot. Hear how the 
storm rages,” pleaded the commander. 

“ Have I not passed through more fearful storms 
than this ? ” she asked, stepping upon the floor and 
confronting him. ‘"Yes,” she added in a low, 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL, 


237 

meaning tone, ** if you value the life of Marian 
Abbot, who is now living, it must be done. Get me 
one or two companions and I will lead the way.” 

Holmes believed that it was his duty to do so, 
and answering her that her wish should be gratified 
at once, he passed out. He aroused Dingle and 
Mansfield, but Peterson was nowhere to be found. 
He imparted to the ranger the identity of their 
guide, and the absence of Peterson was then under- 
stood. Preparations were made at once to start, and 
the impatience and excitement of Mansfield was 
painful to witness. 

The Frontier Angel — as we shall call her for a 
time — arrayed herself in her usual garments, wrap- 
ping a large shawl around her form, and covering 
her head securely, and was ready when Holmes re- 
entered the room. 

“How many are going?” she asked. 

“ Two well-tried and reliable men.” 

“ That is plenty. Let us wait no longer.” 

She passed out without a word, and the tvro men 
joined her. The commander unbarred the gate and 
saw them move ofif in the darkness, adding no un- 
necessary caution or question. 

“ Keep close to me and move as fast as possible,” 
she said as soon as they were alone. 

The rain was still falling, and th^ wind howled 


TEE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


238 

dismally overhead. The Frontier Angel led the way 
to the river, where they entered one of the canoes 
that were always there, and were propelled across 
by Dingle. As they reached the Ohio side the 
ranger saw a dark form suddenly appear beside him 
and glide along as silently as a shadow. 

“ Hello ! who are you ? ” he demanded. 

“ You know well enough — don’t speak my name. 
I knowed you’d be on some such a tramp as this.” 

Mansfield recognized the voice of Peterson, and 
to set their fair guide at ease, he informed her that 
it was merely a friend who had joined them. 

The speed with which the Frontier Angel moved 
through the wood was wonderful. She neither 
seemed to run nor walk, but to glide as silently and 
swiftly as a specter over the ground. Her com- 
panions did not run, but they executed an amount 
of what might properly be termed “tall walking.” 

On — on she led them like the. ignis fatuus, brush- 
ing through the dripping branches, tumbling over 
the gnarled and twisted roots, splashing through the 
watery hollows, tearing their way through the 
tangled undergrowth, until after many a mile had 
been passed and hours had elapsed, she halted and 
said: 

“Here is the spot.” 

At first, our friends were unable to pierce the 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


239 


darkness; but, after gazing steadily for a few mo- 
ments, they discerned the faint outlines of a hill 
or swell in the ground in front. Still at a loss to 
understand how this could be their destination, 
Mansfield inquired: 

‘‘ What is there here that can assist us in our 
search ? ” 

— Sh! some one approaches!” admonished the 
guide. 

The snapping of a twig was heard, and presently 
the footsteps of persons. Our friends sank to the 
earth and silently waited their approach. Scarcely 
more than ten feet away they halted, and presently 
the guttural voice of a savage was heard. What 
he said was of course unintelligible to Mansfield, 
although Frontier Angel and Peterson understood 
every word. Despite the rain which was still fall- 
ing, a huge torch instantly flashed out and dis- 
played the gleaming visages of two Shawnees, steal- 
ing forward like the panther. At the very base of 
the hill or knoll alluded to, they halted. Here by 
the aid of the flickering torches, our friends were 
enabled to gain a view of its peculiarities. It merely 
resembled a mass of solid green earth, with a 
number of stones piled at the base. A moment later, 
the dusky warriors entered the cave, and swinging 


240 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


their torch overhead called out : Pauquachoke ! 

Pauquachoke ! ” 

A shuffling, sliding over the ground was heard, 
and a bent, withered, old squaw appeared. For the 
benefit of our readers we will translate the Indian 
tongue into the English. 

“ What seeks the Shawnee chiefs ? ” asked the old 
squaw. 

“ The captive pale-face, bring her at once.” 

Thus commanded, the squaw clapped her hands 
three times, and with feelings which we leave to the 
imagination of the reader, our friends beheld Marian 
Abbot approach! She said nothing, but stood with 
her head meekly bent as if awaiting her doom. She 
appeared the same as when Mansfield had last seen 
her, except she was paler and more dejected. 

The Frontier Angel had entered the cave behind 
the savages, so that all save Peterson were now 
within it. He had purposely remained outside to 
conceal his identity. The savages standing with 
their backs toward the entrance failed to see the 
shadows behind them, which might be said to be in 
fact a part of the gloom itself, so faint was the light 
of the torch. 

There was no mistaking the meaning of the 
savages. Their glowing visages, doubly hideous in 
their horrid war paint, their weapons, their attitude, 



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THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


243 


all showed they were upon the work of death. Mans- 
field felt ready to spring forward and rend the 
demons limb from limb; but an emotion, that was 
ever after unaccountable to him, held him in his 
place. 

One of the savages, placed his hand upon the 
knife in his belt and addressed Marian in broken 
English. 

White man, McGable dead — white gal die too.’’ 

I am ready if you wish to kill me,” she replied 
meekly. 

Pale-face wan’t die. McCable say kill white 
gal ef he no come back. He no come back — white 
gal must die.” 

I have told you I am ready — why do you wait. 
Strike, now, and may God forgive you both.” 

Still the savage hesitated. A baleful light glit- 
tered in his black eye as he surveyed the vision of 
loveliness before him. His hand toyed with the 
buckhorn handle of his knife, and his chest sank and 
rose like the billows of the sea. Several times the 
knife was partly withdrawn, until Marian wonder- 
ing at the stillness and inaction, looked up and 
encountered the fiery gaze of the Indian. The latter 
forced his knife to its place, and sucking his breath 
between his teeth, demanded, 

“ White gal no want to die ? ” 


244 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


I have not deserved death, and I do not wish to 
die, but I am prepared for death and expect nothing 
else at your hands/^ 

Be Indian chief’s squaw ? ” asked the Indian 
with the rapidity of lightning. 

Marian started, as if stung by an adder, and gazed 
into the eyes which fairly scintillated their electric 
light into her own. She comprehended the mean- 
ing of the words in an instant. 

“ No, Indian, I cannot be your squaw.” 

Then die — think two, tree time, afore speak 
agin.” 

“ No, never, Indian, kill me if you will.” 

“Then die—!” 

Marian darted backward with a piercing shriek, 
as the torch was dashed to the ground, and the 
savage sprang toward her. She had caught sight of 
a pale, horror-struck face that shot in from the 
mouth of the cave, and heard the words : 

“ We are here, Marian ! Don’t be frightened. 
We’ll clear the cave of these monsters in a second ! ” 

With ready wit, Marian had sprung one side, 
when the torch fell to the ground, and thus escaped 
the well-nigh fatal blow. All being blank dark- 
ness her assassin was at fault, even had he repeated 
the attempt. But the Indians scented danger that 
second, and dashing the torch to the earth, whisked 


THE FRONTIER ANOEL. 


245 


out of the cave and were gone in a twinkling, escap- 
ing the murderous onslaught Peterson had prepared 
himself to give them as they emerged. 

A few moments of necessary confusion followed 
the announcement of Mansfield’s presence. Guided 
by the unerring instinct of love, he soon had Marian 
clasped in his arms. A fervent embrace and he led 
her forth. As they passed out of the entrance, the 
dark body of the old squaw brushed by them and 
scurried off in the darkness. 

“ Thank God, the dead is alive ! ” exclaimed 
Mansfield impulsively, pressing a kiss upon the cold 
cheek of Marian. “ Can you bear the walk, dearest ? 
it is a long way to your home; let me wrap this 
blanket around you.” 

“ I can bear anything now!** she replied in a low 
tone. “ Are the Indians gone ? ” 

“ None but friends are around you.” 

“ I saw some one just now move by me.” 

“ It is Pe — a friend.” 

“ Let us go on then. Is this dear, good Frontier 
Angel here.” 

“ It is to her your life is owing. She is no longer 
crazy.” 

“ Oh, this must be a dream ! ” cried Marian, as 
she was locked in the arms of her devoted friend. 
** It cannot — cannot be real.” 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


246 

For a few moments nothing but the sobbing of 
the two was heard. Peterson seemed restless, and 
moved uneasily but said nothing. 

“ Let us go,” said the Frontier Angel, “ for there 
is a long distance to travel.” 

The storm had partly ceased, though the wind 
was stronger than ever. Through the woods again 
« — through swarrps and thickets — over brooks and 
the matted undergrowth — ^brushing through the 
dripping bushes — until as the misty light of morn- 
ing was breaking over the scene, they once more 
appeared upon the banks of the Ohio, opposite the 
block-house. 


It was a happy reunion — one whose perfect joy 
our feeble pen can never give. There were two 
persons who, it seemed, had risen from the dead. 
The Frontier Angel and Marian Abbot. When the 
identity and remarkable history of the former be- 
came known through the settlement, there were 
many, even of the most intelligent, who believed it 
nothing less than a miracle. 

If the reader, who has followed us through these 
pages, will examine the history of the West, he will 
find that in the summer of 1788, three flat-boats were 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


247 


attacked by the Shawnees, a short distance below 
the mouth of the great Sciota, and nearly all of the 
inmates massacred. Two of the boats were sunk, 
and history states that every one on board were 
slain. On the remaining boat was a Methodist 
missionary by the name of Tucker, who fought as 
only those valiant old Methodist pioneers can fight. 
There were several women, who loaded their dead 
husband’s rifles and handed them to him, while he 
fired with such deadly effect, that his boat finally 
escaped, and he reached Maysville, where, a few 
days after, he died of his wounds. 

In one of the boats which were sunk by the 
savages, was a man named William Orr, with his 
family. Every one of these, it is stated by histo- 
rians, fell a victim to the fury of the Shawnees. 
And here we take the liberty of saying that, not for 
the first time, the historical accounts are in error. 
The writer traveled over that section, where most 
of our scenes have been laid, some years since, and 
obtained from an aged man (who had known the 
rangers, Jim Peterson and Dick Dingle, years 
before) the following account of the affair: 

The boat which contained Orr and his family was 
the hindmost, and upon the second volley of the 
Shawnees, every one was killed, except Myra Orr, 
the youngest daughter. Even she was wounded. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


248 

A bullet grazed her forehead, pressing a piece of 
bone inward upon the brain, in such a manner as 
to render her crazy! 

In a few moments, the savages came up and 
proceeded to scalp their victims, when noticing that 
she was still alive, she was taken as a prisoner to the 
shore. It was subsequently ascertained that she was 
demented and no harm was offered her.* In time, 
she dressed and painted like the Indians, but she 
was never one of their number. She mingled with 
them, but her singular manner impressed them with 
the belief that she was something more than mortal. 
After a year or so, she took to the woods, and some- 
where in its recesses she built herself a home. In 
the year 1790, she appeared before a settlement, 
and warned them of an intended attack, and from 
this time up to the closing scenes of our story, she 
devoted her life to the one object of befriending the 
whites. In time she became known all along the 
frontier, and the unaccountable mystery which hung 
down over her, gave rise to the superstitious belief 
that she was in reality an angel Many attempts 
were made to discover her history, but none suc- 
ceeded, until her reason was restored and she gave 
it herself. 

* A crazy or idiotic person is always regarded with supersti- 
tious reverence by the North American Indian. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


249 

But what is perhaps nearly as singular, is that 
Myra Orr, the ‘‘ Frontier Angel,’' and Jim Peterson, 
the ranger, were lovers in their younger days. 
They had separated much in the same manper that 
Mansfield and Marian had. When the tragic fate 
of his love reached the ears of Peterson, he turned 
ranger and acted with the celebrated Dingle in that 
capacity. He rarely referred to his great bereave- 
ment, but there were several who knew it. Among 
these, was Franklin Holmes, commander of the 
block-house, who was acquainted with the Orr 
family, before they removed from the East. 

It will be remembered that Peterson left Marian 
Abbot, as he believed, in a dying condition, when 
the flat-boat was attacked. She was desperately 
wounded, and without the utmost care would have 
died. McGable recognized her as he boarded the 
flat-boat, and carried her to the shore, where he 
gave her in charge of an Indian runner, with instruc- 
tions to carry her at once to Pauquachoke, one of 
their old medicine women.” McGable instantly 
returned and joined in the massacre. A few days 
after, he visited the medicine woman, and learned 
that Marian would recover, although it would nec- 
essarily require a long time. In fact, she had not 
been able to walk until a month previous to her 
rescue. Escape was impossible, as Pauquachoke 


250 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


had been instructed never to permit her to pass out 
of the cave. By an accident, the Frontier Angel be- 
came aware of the state of things and visited the 
captive on several different occasions. This reached 
the ears of McGable, and fearful of losing his prey 
through her means, he determined to kill her. His 
attempts and failures to do this, have been referred 
to. The fearful exertion through which Myra Orr 
W’ent, on the night of Marian’s rescue, well-nigh 
proved fatal to her. Reason flickered and fled for 
a time, but it finally returned in its full strength. 

Marian for a long while was nearly delirious with 
joy — and so were the father and mother, and Mans- 
field, too. And Jim Peterson, the genial, good- 
hearted ranger, was heard to exclaim scores of 
times, “ It beats all ! it’s powerful queer that I’ve 
met my gal here for nearly ten years, and was 
afraid she’d kill me ef she touched me. It’s queer ! 
Powerful queer ! ” 

We wish our readers could have been down at 
the settlement, on the night of October 20, 1798. 
It would have required immense room to have ac- 
commodated them we suppose, but the woods were 
large enough. This double wedding was a greater 
one than Seth Jones’ and George Graham’s. Yet 
it was much the same, and we will not describe it, 
but close our story with a paragraph. 


THE FRONTIER ANGEL. 


251 


Jim Peterson gave up the ranger’s life and settled 
down as a farmer. He had several children, and 
two of his grandsons are now prominent merchants 
in the city of Cincinnati. In the war of 1812, 
Russel Mansfield acted as Colonel, and at its close 
retired to his farm near Maysville, covered with 
honor and glory. Here he lived with his children 
and grandchildren, and it is only a few years since 
that he followed his wife to her last resting-place. 
Dick Dingle and Peter Jenkins became bosom 
friends, and spent many years of adventure and 
peril together. We will dismiss them, with the 
promise that their experiences shall not be withheld 
from the reader, and that they both shall be heard 
of again. 


THE END. 



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